(Read part 1 here)
Back in good ol’ 1980-something I was young and naive and the happiest I’d ever been in my entire life. That is until one fateful day when I came out of the girls restroom at my elementary school and had a finger pointed right at my nose.
“DID YOU POOP?!?!”
I said nothing cause I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. I did poop, and I wiped. I flushed. And then as soon as Angel got her fucking finger out of my face, I was gonna wash my hands. But my silence was enough for the girls to begin a full-fledged freak-out.
“OH MY GOD, IT WAS RACHEL!”
“RACHEL POOPED? NO!”
“GROSS! RACHEL POOOPED!”
My suppose-to-be best friends backed out the door. Angel told me I disgusted her, and another girl began gagging at the sink.
It’s not like I shit my pants! Or left a floater! These bitches acted like I was writing, “If you’re looking for a good play date call Angel…” with my dookie! I learned my lesson, but I was furious! How was I suppose to know that you’re not suppose to poop in the one place I’ve been pooping for most of my life! Had my mom or sister or anyone said, “Never ever, for the sake of all that is pure and dainty, ever poop outside this house!” I wouldn’t have eaten the taco meat at lunch!
Now here I was 18 years later, backed-up with fear over reliving that same damn day. My face was beaded with sweat as I imagined what grown-Angel must look like now. And what grown-Angel would think if she saw me now. I could hear her cruel words, “Don’t you fucking do it, you filthy pooper!” And I knew she or someone exactly like her was waiting outside the door.
I tried waiting it out, but the cramps were getting worse and the women just kept coming and coming! Where did they all come from? I wanted to scream, “Everyone get out!” but knowing women they would just be “concerned” aka nosy. They’d want to know what’s going on. How can we help, sweetie? They’d knock on the door and tell me not to worry, I’d be okay. But the second I told them I was pooping, this once peaceful bathroom would look like that nasty scene from the movie Carrie!
I was desperate, and things began moving down stairs. I hung my head and prayed, “Please God. Help me.”
Ask and ye shall receive. Matthew 7:7
At that moment, and I mean without exaggeration, at that exact moment, the woman in the stall next to me let off the biggest loudest fart I’ve ever heard in a public restroom. It actually reverberated off the walls and echoed across the sinks. It might have even broken a mirror.
The room fell silent. And then it started up again.
I”m tellin’ you this lady was full of”em! Short squeaky toots, pop-gun puffers, long growlers, even some big wet ones! All disgustingly loud, all much appreciated by yours truly. While this woman played out a musical of toots, I released. Sweet, sweet release that only softly splashed, and even that sound was muffled by my ginormous thighs. Thank you, Lord! It was over.
I took a little longer to wash my hands. I wanted to see this divine being. Maybe give her a little nod or a knowing wink that says, “I pooped, too.” But she never came out. I didn’t know how to let her know she was in good company, so I left.
You know, everyone poops. Everyone farts. And instead of making yourself miserable, maybe you should just let yourself go. In a restroom, anyways. Cause that is where it’s suppose to go. Let’s be a model for our younger generation and let it go. Lord only knows where I’d be if that one brave soul hadn’t been there for me.
So, Fart Fairies unite!
Thanks for stopping by!