The Day I Pooped at the Float Spa
Have you heard of those fancy pants Float Spas? You know, a big-ass pod filled with water and 875 billion pounds of salt so that you are magically boyant and float in a delightful sensory deprivation situation. It's actually really cool. It's the most unplugged hour you'll probably ever have.
Groupon was running a special so I bought one and scheduled my float. The nice woman checked me in, gave me a tour of the spa and then walked me to my private room, which contained the gigantic pod and a small shower stall to rinse off in before and after my float. She left me alone and I undressed, got in the pod, pulled down the gigantic door and closed myself in. I effortlessly floated, in pitch black silence for one solid hour. At first it was like any meditative experience - I was fucking ANTSY. I couldn't relax. It was a little freaky. I masturbated, that helped and I was able to really be present and enjoy the float. There is a timer on the pod and it goes off by beginning to play music under water and then slowly turning the lights on and then eventually the door pops up automatically for you, and then as a final get-the-fuck-out, the super powerful jets come up and the pod starts doing whatever fucking crazy cleaning cycle it does after each float.
So I'm a little delirious and so fucking relaxed and naked and dripping wet as I climb out of my pod. As soon as I stand up strait I realize IHAVETOSHIIIIIIIT. SO BADLY. As a reflex I hunched over because it was like standing up strait stretched my poop vessel in a way that made it harder to hold in. Things were quickly escalating and I realized there was no fucking way in holy hell that I was going to make it waaaaaaaay down the hall to the bathroom. I had to come up with a solution, and fast. I surveyed the scene and noticed a teeny tiny trash can with a super duper thing plastic liner. But that's what I got. I grabbed the liner, copped a squat and I shat right there in that bad. I tied off the bag because goddamn does poop stink out in the open air. Do you realize how much your nose is spared by pooping into a toilet bowl full of water so your shit is immediately submerged? It saves your nose a lot of agony.
Feeling a hundred and fifty thousand pounds lighter, and with a shitty ass, I stepped into my private shower stall and rinsed off right nice. But then. Oh sweet baby Jesus. I had to shit AGAIN. In the same horrifyingly desperate way.
So I had to reopen the poop bag. And poop in it again.
I seriously considered squatting over the shower drain, pooping, and then just cramming the poop down the drain grate with....something.
But I didn't. I reopened the bag.
Then I showered again.
Then I got dressed, grabbed my bag of shit and prayed to Jesus that I would make it down the hall to the actual bathroom with my clear plastic bag of poop without running into anyone.
Thank fuck. I made it. I threw the poop bag in the trash can and got the hell out of there.
Now I make sure to warn everyone before they go to the float spa - poop first. Just please - poop first. You'll thank me later.
Are you laughing now? Do you need some more poop stories? Continue reading then -- this is a thing for me.
The Trash Can Dump Story:
I don't know what it is with me and poop. I have some kinda poop karma. Because my one other most holy shit shameful experience also has to do with poop. I was living in a roommate situation and one of the guys I lived I had a maaaaad crush on. Like, it was bad. He was so fine. One Friday night I had gone out drinking as a good recently divorced newly single does, and I had also eaten really terrible bad awful fast food in the wee hours of the morning on my way home. Fast forward a few hours to Saturday morning at 6am. I wake up and am going to poop my friggin pants. I'm surprised I didn't poop the bed. I ran down the hall to the bathroom and who's in there? Hottie is in there re-tiling the shower. He's one of those freaks who gets up at 5am every morning and goes for a 1700 mile run with his border collies. So of course he's up ass-early on a Saturday doing sexy man stuff. Ok. Now obviously he would've left the bathroom and given me my privacy to do whatever I needed to do. But I couldn't. Because after I pooped my sure-to-be-the-stink-bomb-of-the-century poop he would've been right back in there to get back to his tile job. And he would've smelled my poop.
And I just couldn't deal with that.
So I went back to my room and did the only logical thing I could do in my hungover 6am on a Saturday morning stuper. I pooped in the trash can next to my bed. And then I just went back to sleep. Some hours later I woke up, grabbed the bag of poop, made a mad dash for my car and drove up to the Safeway around the corner to chuck my poop in their dumpster.
Because holy heaven forbid hottie discovered I actually poop.
The Cascading Shit Story
This story starts with me on my back with my legs over my head so that my ass was hanging over the edge of the arm of the couch. My hot boyfriend and I began having some righteous ass sex. At one point he pulled his penis out to change positions and a stream of poo started cascading out of my ass and down the side of the couch into a puddle on the beige carpet.
I did not know this was happening. I had my legs over my head and was staring at the ceiling waiting for instruction. I didn’t know what was going on.
Finally he said, “Get up and go STRAIT to the bathroom and take a shower.”
Ok. I didn’t ask questions. I just went. I wasn’t too messy personally, there was a tiny bit of poo on me, but for the most part it had just shot strait down the couch. I walked back out to see my boyfriend scrubbing the poop pile out of the carpet.
I sort of timidly asked, “What now?” He said, “You’ve got two other working holes – where do you want it?”
Afterwards I asked him how he kept going and how the poop didn’t bother him. He said, “When you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned now and then. You just clean up and fuck on.”
Pooped Myself at my Own Party
It’was the eve of my 22nd birthday…..it was a dark and drunken night…….Do you guys remember Graham’s Central Station? Well, that’s where I wanted to go and I gathered a group of friends to go with me. They had one hour where all drinks were 25 cents. This didn’t turn out well for me. I had $2.25 worth of drinks in that one hour. I was dancing. I cleared myself an area on the dance floor because I was hitting people while I was pretending to swim. I got up in a cage and was squatting down fast and then popping back up fast, each time my skirt flying up and displaying my underwear. Eventually we were asked to leave because of me. I didn’t know that at the time because I was too out of it. I was just taken by the hand and told that the party was moving back to my house. Once I was back home I was placed on the couch and started drooling on myself. I ran to the bathroom and immediately was fucked because I had to poop and vomit and wasn’t sure which end to put on the toilet.
Meanwhile, all of my friends are sitting right outside of that tiny downstairs half bathroom on my living room couches politely chatting.
I put my ass end on the toilet and immediately started shitting whilst also vomiting into a trash can in between my legs. I reached behind me to flush to try to get rid of the vomit stink and I kept flushing and flushing, commenting that the water and the breeze felt so good on my vagina, but also very confused that my vomit never went away (not realizing I had been vomiting into a trash can and not into the toilet).
I started whining for my then-husband to “make it stoooooopppppppp! pleeeeease, make it stop!” He was fielding my requests while also trying to be a polite host.
Eventually everyone left seeing that the situation was clearly continuing south. I tried to crawl out of the bathroom and ended up passed out face down half way in the bathroom and half way out with my skirt flipped up and sprinkles of diarrhea all over my butt cheeks. My darling husband wiped my ass, threw my skirt in the trash and helped me upstairs to bed.
I woke up the next morning still drunk and used this as a shining example to teach my teenage sister not to ever drink. I fished my skirt out of the trash, washed it, and tried to regain my dignity.