They warned me about this. "Don't do it, Suze. That's way too much information."
But, come on. Every traveler does it. It controls our every waking minute, ruling our roost. Affecting our agenda. Subverting our social gatherings.
I'm speaking, of course, about Bowel Movements. BMs are a tricky business for a traveler-- particularly for a woman. Heck, they're hard enough on "dry land," if you forgive a pun (and, trust me, there are plenty of puns in this one). BMs are a risky business in today's society. We like to imagine that they don't exist. Well, they do. And we all bloody well know that.
Problem is, our world hasn't been designed to accept this inconvenient truth. And traveling is even tougher.
Take the Hostel. You share one bathroom between six people. Try to move your bowels in that situation. Six women in one bathroom? Forget excreting-- between showers, blow drying, make up, and eating disorders, you're lucky if you can even get a turn in, and when you do, the walls are so thin, they're going to hear your every sound.
So you begin to scout out locations. Private shitteries. Just like at work; where are the good toilets? The ones that are isolated and distant. Down a lesser-used hall, or in a basement. Handicapped-accessible are nice; they have ample space and just one stall. And, a lock is essential. Moving your bowels with an unlocked door is playing Russian Poolette (forgive me, it's too easy).
At the Hostels, I find toliets near the kitchen and TV room. These are good-- opportunity for anonymity. Even if you're in there a while, most people come and go quickly enough. So, if you wait until they leave, they'll never know your smelly little secret. It's a game of "anal chicken"-- daring the person in the stall next to you to leave-- to see who has the guts to tough it out. I'm dedicated; these young lasses usually give up and flush. The noise of their toliet and hand washing helps. Anything to cover up and distract.
Public toilets can be effective, especially in parks or beachfronts. But, often moms arrive-- just as you're settling in-- with their precious dear young children. Bashing, bumping, smashing around-- and that tightens up the ol' curtains. I always think if I break out a large wind that the kids will start laughing at "funny fart," and the mom will be embarassed, hushing her darlings.
Airplane bathrooms are solitary, but they're so cramped, and besides, there's always someone on the other side, waiting to see the sign move from "engaged" to "vacant." And, as soon as you open the door, They Know. You are the savage who went Number 2 on the airplane.
But airports are great. Large facilities, many stalls, loads of anonymity. People come and go like a ferris wheel, and soon they disappear to a gate, off to another part of the world. So, you can pass gas and grunt and plop, and no one will track you down and point fingers and laugh at you-- the loser going Number 2.
An interesting accommodation at Murdoch University ups the ante. It's hard enough shitting in front of women. How's this?
Bathroom stalls in the GLBT office at Murdoch University. (As if it weren't hard enough.)
Although, transgendered men are likely to be a bit more understanding for poor women and their bowel conundrums.
Men, you may be absolutely clueless about this, but your lovely female companions become totally constipated when they travel. Let's face it; you think nothing ever comes out of your woman's rectal region, right? It's prisine as a mountain spring. Why, you never hear or smell them fart; you think they're going to drop their guard and move their bowels? And, just how do you think women behave, physiologically? Do you think we are born without excretory obligations?
Men, newsflash: women shit. We shit and we fart. We have to fart all the time, all day. If you're reading this at work, there's a woman next to you, holding in a fart. If you share a cubicle with a woman, she spends more time holding in her farts than actually working. Do her a favor and leave the space for a good ten minutes, every hour. Trust me; it will increase productivity around the office. Guaranteed.
You think I'm kidding. Forget not farting. I know women who-- even at home, with routine and bathroom comfort zones-- will only go once a week. A few women I know go once every two weeks. Once every two weeks!
Look. We're intelligently designed with a 24-hour intestinal tract. Meaning our bodies are designed to excrete food within 24 hours of eating. So, if you eat three times a day... well, you do the math. How many people do you know who eat once every two weeks? Uh huh. I thought so.
Maybe Tic and his ten bathroom breaks had it right. People need ample opportunity to let it go. Conditions have to be just right.
Small deviations-- a wall that is too short or too high from the floor creates air flow-- reducing smell, yes. But, it also offers too much auditory information. Translation: my fart and poop smells may dissipate, but you're going to hear it. So, the cheeks tighten. This is right out.
And, how many of you have attempted to move your bowels with someone in the stall right next to you? Can you do it? Bully for you. Maybe-- maybe-- if there are many stalls and people, background noise like hand dryers. And, chances increase if I have something to read (I usually carry a catalog in my purse, for just such an occasion).
But. If it's just me and another person-- in the next stall? Just the two of us? With silence? And, no reading materials-- no props-- for cognitve distraction? Uh uh. Sorry. If you can shit through that, you're a zen master.
Some natural remedies for the constipated traveler? Remember KISS: Keep it simple; shit.
1. Drink water. Lots of it.
2. Exercise. Move your body. Lots of it.
These two alone work like night and day.
Some behavioral/social remedies:
1. Surf. Checking the internet-- especially email-- is a spot-on remedy. The excitement of receiving news from a friend or loved one creates a phenomenon we refer to in our family as "NA"-- Nervous Anus. Why do you think I spend so much time on my blog? Love of the lore and quest for bequeathing jewels of wisdom? Please. It's foreplay for NA and BM. (Picture that from now on, each time you read my entries.)
So, keep those letters coming! Each email brings me one step closer to a lighter, happier day.
2. Shop. My theory about why shopping is so popular is because it is a cure for constipation. It's a sure-fire means to NA. Especially thrift shops, when I find a great bargain or the perfect cardigan. I can sense those internal walls quivering with excitement. Problem is, most shops don't have public facilities, so it's a double-edged sword.
I usually get about two aisles into the store when the craving occurs. Shit. Literally. So, shopping is precarious; one should plot out a location beforehand, or ascertain that facilities are open to the public. Otherwise, you're setting yourself up for the Prairie Dog, and shit is fickle. If you hold it too long, it holds a grudge, and excreting is twice as hard, later. But, if the factors are in place, then shop til you drop!
3. Diet. Ladies, you've got to eat to shit. I know that may come as a shock. But, believe me, the more good, healthy, whole food you consume, the more apt you are to awaken the morning dew. And, for godssake: carve out some time! Honor your colon. It's like shitting is the last item on your To Do list-- if it even makes the list. We'll drive the kids to school, catch a bus, answer the phone, make breakfast, apply make up, serve our husbands a "happy meal" before work (like you don't)-- anything comes before moving the bowels.
Newsflash: BMs are the VIPs. Priority activity that takes precedence over just about anything. Okay, maybe choking to death is more important. But, otherwise, ladies. LADIES. If you need to shit... my advice is to shit. fart. grunt. splat. plop. Do it. Get it out of you. As my father says, there's a reason they call it shit.
Right? Oh, by the way. I've been holding in a fart this whole time.
Come on! There's like eight people in the room. I'm dumb, but I'm not stupid.
Leave a comment