Today's guest post is from Shaun Glenn from is it 5 o'clock yet? I first stumbled across Shauna's blog from a post from Tim Rogers at Frontburner touting the best new local writer and pointed us to this post - one of my personal favorites of Shauna's. Since then I have followed her blog faithfully as I adore her writing and have had the distinct pleasure to meet Shauna in person. Shauna is a writer first and foremost and you can find her craft in many places, including Aiming Low, a web site with contributions from a group of women, moms, bloggers, friends and writers. With her permission, here is one of her classic Aiming Low posts:
There are some things I can't do in public. Like poop. For real. I don’t know what it is about public pooping that scares me, but I simply cannot do it. So knowing that about me I try and plan my life/activities around pooping so that I can move freely throughout each day without the fear of being in Target and needing to go. It doesn’t always work.Just the other day I was having lunch with a friend when I felt a familiar rumbling in my stomach. I started to panic. My whole body tensed up and a wave of heat washed over me. I quickly surveyed the situation, trying to figure out my options. I realized I had only one REAL option. I had to get out of there… and FAST. I turned to my girlfriend who (I didn’t know until just then because I was so preoccupied with my poop issue) was going into detail about her dog’s grooming habits (apparently he licks himself until his skin falls off–seemed like a perfectly good time to exit if you ask me). “I hate to do this but I have to leave.” “What? But you haven’t touched your food.” I looked at my plate. This was true. Dilemma number 2. Did I take the time to get a to-go box and risk shitting my pants? Or did I cut my losses and flee. Oh universe, thou art a wicked whore. Just then my belly cramped and I felt like I needed to… you know…. fart. Food situation–decided. “You take it home with you. I’ll eat something later.” “But where are you going?” “Home. I have to go to the bathroom.” She looked confused. And *I* am dying to sit on the potty. In my house. “There’s a bathroom HERE!” “Um, yeah, I know. But I have to *go* to the bathroom. And I can’t do that in public.” “Oh my god, you’re so ridiculous. GO TO THE BATHROOM ALREADY!” Um, Hi Everyone At The Highly Popular Lunch Spot Which Is Wall To Wall People Right Now Who Are All Staring At Me. Enjoy Your Caesar Salad. I leaned in closer. “Have you just MET me? I don’t poop in public. I physically can not *do* it.” At that moment, she got up from her seat and grabbed me by the elbow and WALKED ME TO THE BATHROOM. She opened the door, shoved me inside and said, “Go before I kill you. You’re driving me insane and my soup is getting cold.” The door closed and I turned around to see that there was only one stall. One. Which meant if someone needed to go while I was in there they were going to have to wait for me to finish. My stomach rumbled again. If I didn’t do something fast I would have to worry less about pooping in public and more about how I was going to get out of there without anyone noticing I’d shit my pants. So… I did what I had to do. But just so you know, I wasn’t happy about it. After a few minutes I opened the door to find 4 women waiting to use the bathroom. I haven’t spoken to my *friend* since. Asshole.