When I embark on a journey, my rear end swiftly declares a sense of homesickness. The moment I shut my front door and enter a taxi, plane, or car, it’s as if my backside is saying, “Nope. I long for home. I miss my toilet. This door won’t budge until I’m back on my own throne, thank you very much.”
I suffer from a peculiar ailment: Fecal Stage Fright. Traveling turns me into someone who simply cannot poop. Perhaps it’s a nervous response? Unlike those who experience explosive reactions to travel anxiety, I find myself utterly unable to drop the kids off at the pool.
It’s not for lack of trying, either. I position myself on the toilet, inhaling deeply. I even turn on the shower, hoping the steam will coax my muscles to relax. Soft melodies of Enya fill the air in a desperate attempt to facilitate bowel movement. My suitcase becomes a makeshift squatty potty, and I hold motivational talks with my lower half. Yet, nothing seems to work. Away from home, I develop a Fort Knox-like sphincter.
On one hand, this situation has its perks. I avoid the awkwardness of public restrooms, where I would otherwise wait for the coast to be clear to achieve some relief. I don’t need to rush out with a polite, “Excuse me,” when the pressure builds. Plus, I spare my hotel room from any noxious odors, keeping my travel buddies happy. And let’s not forget the benefit of wearing thongs without the worry of any unsightly skid marks.
However, the flip side of this predicament is the discomfort it brings. I find it challenging to indulge in food, as the thought of adding more to my already cramped digestive system makes me nauseous. Isn’t enjoying local cuisine one of the best parts of travel? The bloating that ensues from my intestines feeling like a congested grain silo means my clothes fit poorly, which certainly dampens my spirits.
And gas? Well, despite my best efforts to keep things clamped, eventually something must give. The resulting emissions can clear a room, and trust me, it’s not pleasant. It’s almost comical how difficult it is to have fun when all I can think about is the urge to relieve myself, yet I’m unable to do so. Externally, I may appear to be a carefree traveler, but internally, I’m just a congested individual daydreaming of a stool softener for some much-needed relief.
Each trip inevitably concludes the same way: I unlock my front door, and my rear end celebrates with a cry of “freedom!” I rush to the porcelain throne armed with a gas mask and a good book, knowing I’ll be there for a while.
So if you happen to spot me out and about, I might seem restless or even standoffish. I assure you, it’s not you; it’s just the incessant thoughts of poop that I can’t shake off.
For those interested in enhancing their own family journeys, check out our post on the home insemination kit, where we delve into various methods for conception. Additionally, if you’re looking to boost fertility, consider exploring fertility supplements that can help optimize your journey. For an authoritative resource on pregnancy and home insemination, visit Johns Hopkins Medicine for valuable insights.
In summary, traveling can be a hilarious yet uncomfortable experience for those of us who struggle with the inability to poop. While there are benefits to avoiding public restrooms, the discomfort of constipation can overshadow the joys of exploring new places.
Leave a Reply