Plop! Plop, plop!
What’s that sound? It’s the echoes of our excrements slapping the surface of the toilet bowl also known as the bane of our existence when nature calls in public. You poop. I poop. We all poop. So why is pooping in public so taboo? It’s time for this elephant in the room to be addressed.
During my time in dorms with communal bathrooms, I have learned quite a great deal about pooping in public. No one wants to admit they do it, which is hilarious in my opinion because it is an undeniable fact of human nature. Luckily, I lived on an all girls floor, which meant that no one actually cared after the first few weeks of awkwardness. However, my friend who lived on a floor with both genders told me her pooping nightmares. She would go to different floors to poop just to avoid the awkwardness of pooping with a person of the opposite gender in the stall next to her. Another time when she needed to go, a guy friend was also in the bathroom who seemingly needed go too. In the end, neither of them went.
There are many theories as to why there’s a social stigma against defecating in public. Some believe Freud’s anal stage of the psychosexual development theory may explain unresolved issues with our excrements. Others believe that the terror management theory may be involved as humans seek to distance themselves from their “creatureliness” to escape their inevitable mortality. The social stigma of defecation is further exacerbated my media’s portrayal of pooping as a disgusting and unfeminine notion.
Fortunately for men, society grants them the right to talk about shitting openly. In books and movies, men are the ones who laugh at fart and poop jokes. They talk about pooping, farting, burping, and all the quirks of our bodily functions. Women, however, must keep their pooping habits as hush hush secrets because god forbid, the world finds out the truth that we fart and poop.
I always get asked this question: “You eat so much, but you’re still so thin. Where does it all go?” Without batting an eye, I would smile and say, “I shit three times a day.” The expression of mild shock mixed with faint disgust masked with an uneasy smile is almost always the reaction I receive. Let’s face the facts. What goes in must come out and it isn’t going to be pretty. If I have to go, I’m going to go, so let’s stop this nonsense with gender restrictions and whatnot because the bathroom is not a place for chit chat; it’s for shits and shats. This is the 21st century where coffee is the new water, so please, let me shit in peace.
