I’ve had a long standing ‘rule’ for lack of a better word of not pooping in public washrooms. It’s nothing to do with hygiene, while that being a valid reason, it’s more a case of shy bowel. The same rule applies to friends houses which can be tricky when one is staying for an extended time, but I will get to THAT later.
I often wonder if it’s more than just me that cringes at the thought of being caught with my pants down, both literally and figuratively by say a co-worker or even a stranger while perfuming the air. At work we call a stinky bathroom a ‘code brown’ which I gotta say cracks me up as long as I’m not the one coding.
I think it has a whole lot to do with the fact my Dad used to make fun of me after I had done my business as a kid. He would make a big show of it waving his hands and making a face before he went in to stink it up further himself (yeah, thanks Dad!)
When I was a youngish teen I went a whole weekend sans #2’s because I was staying at an old childhood friends fancy digs. I went with my best-friend at the time, both of us were friends with this girl since we were little but she had moved away and out of the blue invited us to stay. I recall how much I was squirming on the bus home in discomfort, but out of sheer iron will I made it.
I mastered the long term guest ‘poop in the middle of the night’ method at my friend Lisa’s house. They have one bathroom in their farm house with five people (six including me) and the thought of tying/stinking it up was horrifying to me, at least until she cottoned to what I was doing and goaded me during a subsequent stay into an actual ‘gasp’ daytime poop.
She’s like a Sister to me now and family eh, I can deal with family.