I pooped my pants in the metro station today and my boyfriend had to come help me out
I'm just going to preface this post by saying one thing: please do NOT judge me. I already feel horrible enough but I thought I'd share this here so we can all have a good laugh (I need a good laugh too, I've been crying non-stop).
I'm not gonna go too deep into this story so I'll just get straight to the point.
I drank one whole bottle of soju yesterday AND today. On top of that, I was seriously lacking some fibre and hydration. What could go wrong, right? EVERYTHING went wrong.
When my boyfriend came to drop me off at the metro (not gonna mention which), I was already feeling a bit of funny gurgle in my tummy. I thought to myself "Meh, I'll shit at home. If it gets too much, I'll get off midway and use a public washroom."
As soon as I went up the escalator, the gurgle just increased more and more. In order to access the public washroom, I had to make an exit from the same station that I entered from. This is kinda logistically difficult as you have to maneuver your ass towards another direction altogether, so I decided to hold it in till the next station.
I must have waited for exactly 3 minutes when the most destructive gurgle kicked me in my ass. "Shit, shit, shit", I kept mumbling to myself, not aware that I was unknowingly beginning to manifest it. As I took out my phone to jokingly text my boyfriend that I need to poop really badly, it kicked me right in the gut.
I remembered reading somewhere that alcohol speeds up digestion and makes you poop like a cannon; I knew I had fucked up when images of yesterday and today flashed before my eyes.
Something needed to be done, so I made a run for the exit. I did not care if I was going the wrong way, I was going to get out of this, get to the nearest washroom, and poop my bowels out.
When there's poop stuck in your ass, I have realised, you shouldn't make so many movements. With every step I was taking, it was becoming even more difficult to keep this monster in.
Then, like a hailstorm, it happened.
I had pooped my pants.
And it. Just. Wouldn't. Stop.
I pride myself in having a tight ass but today, I got to know, it's as loose as the cap of a toddler's water bottle.
I made a run for the exit, while on call with my boyfriend, panicking and crying to him "I POOPED MY PANTS WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO???!??!??" as the whiff of my excretion traveled through the air, with people looking confused at this unfamiliar (yet familiar) smell emanating through.
When I finally reached the washroom, I immediately took off my pants, leaving a trail of poop on my thighs, and my legs. This just wouldn't stop. It just kept going on, and on.
Anyway, I won't tell you anymore about what happened after because I'm already feeling horrible for this experience.
But my gem of a boyfriend had to come back from meeting a friend and delivered an extra pair of pants to me.
I did shove my soiled panties in a plastic bag and discarded it in a trashcan.
When I came back to my boyfriend's place (I couldn't go home after this, I kept wanting to poop), the first thing I did was wash my soiled jeans.
Thank God my granny panties took most of the damage, because washing poop off of my jeans at the big age of 26 wasn't something I thought would happen to me.
So, I only have a few advice to give:
- Granny panties FTW!!!
- Please never consume alcohol back-to-back like a maniac. (If you are, get help.)
- Force yourself to poop before you travel. And,
- If you meet someone who's willing to help you in a shitty situation like this (pun intended) then that love is for life.
Okay, now, bye.
Edit:
I thought it'd be funnier to specify what happened AFTER.
The poopatron saga didn't just end there. The public washroom that I was running to, was located inside a food court. There were others in the vicinity but I chose to go at this one since it was much more hygienic.
I think it cracks me up now when I think of how there were tens of people there eating and having their fill, while a girl was blazing through them with poop stuck in her pants.
As soon as I reached the washroom, my first order of business was to take off my pants.
I had to think and do this maneuver very cleverly.
Do I take off my pants like how I do normally, or do I take them off slowly, so in order to save myself from having poop stuck on my legs? None of these options were going to save the day.
The thing about tight jeans is, you can shove a book inside your ass and nobody would know; it'd still look like a normal ass. Now imagine a warm, puddly book, shoved inside your pants, melting and trickling down your legs.... Yikes.
Somehow, I managed to carefully take off my pants. Obviously, I got poop stuck on my legs and thighs but nothing a bit of water can't solve.
But, oh no, it was happening again.
I had to poop... Again.
I opened the lid of the pot to sit down when I noticed a small piece of poop smeared on the seat. This cannot be fucking real. Somehow, my poop had surpassed the time-space continuum and latched itself on a pot I was about to sit on.
I... Have... No... Words.
This nightmare continued when I had to wait inside for 15 more minutes, with the janitor shouting at me for taking too long. I yelled back at her and told her, "I HAVE BLOOD ON MY PANTS AND PUSSY. DO YOU WANT ME TO COME OUT AND LATHER YOUR FLOOR IN MY PERIOD BLOOD!?!?"
That, however, didn't shut her up. And she kept yelling and going on and on about how she needs to complete her shift and go back home. Ma'am, nobody wants to be stuck in a public washroom.
This horrifying night ended when my boyfriend finally showed up with an extra pair of pants, after which I went to his place and took a nice long bath, and scrubbed myself in places I didn't know were scrub-able.
Please don't ask me about how I picked up my poop-infested panties and discarded it. Every time I look down at my hands and legs, all I can think of now is them covered in poop.