I did a poo in the sea and tried to keep it a secret.
I hate poo. The look, the colour, the fact that when you smell
it, it is actually tiny little poo particles entering your nose freaks me out.
However, we all love going for one. Don’t lie to yourself, you prude. It’s a feeling
of relief, your tummy deflates, you flush it, your body says you’ve lost at
least a pound, now you can refuel and not feel guilty. We also know this is information
you do not share with boys. The only exception, if you’re travelling. Even then
I did not tell my male travel buddy this story; a drunken slip of the tongue
did...
I told a girl friend on a drunken night (when trying to gain
a few cheap laughs) the poo in the sea incident. I shall forever regret this.
I had been drinking heavily in Thailand the night before a
day excursion. Buckets, if you have never been to Thailand these consist of the
following : sugar + bull sperm + lethal paint stripper = death. I had not
prepped my body for the sea, let alone the lack of toilet stops of this trip –
1 to be precise, a hole in the floor.
Placing my head between my legs on what can only be
described as a shanti town version of a boat, to try and regain some form of
dignity without voming was the beginning of the excursion. Once I was over the initial
pain of hangover and seasickness I actually enjoyed my day.
The finale was swimming with glowing plankton (only glows in darkness).Whilst waiting for the sun to set, we travelled to Monkey
Island; there was one monkey and he was shit, plus I was scared of rabies so
stayed well clear. Whilst chilling I felt my belly do an unusual rumble, then
it literally dropped in the pit of my stomach. I knew what was coming – the morning
after poo, 10 hours after it was meant to arrive. Our current location a beach the
was about 10 metres long by 2 metres wide – then cliff face. There was nowhere to go. NOWHERE. The
ocean. My only option.
I frantically started undressing – all whilst my friend started
questioning me - “Nat why are you going swimming? It’s cold! It’s not plankton
time yet. No one else is swimming. What are you doing?” shut the fuck up, shut
the fuck up, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
I honestly ran into that sea and swam as far as I could,
before it happened. I could only hope the shadows of the cliff covered my embarrassment.
A few moments of adjustment and then it flowed out (HEAVE). I swear on my life
this happened next… Someone thought my swimming was a good idea and decided to come
out to talk to me. Because that’s what you do traveling. I wanted to die.
Then I heard the shriek.
The shame.
“Something just touched me”
“Something just touched me as well” – I found myself shrieking.
“Swim out of the deep end and into the shallow water”… “Quick”
Literally the best and quickest recovery I have ever
accomplished. No one saw the poo. No one even thought I was pooing. Poo freedom.
How did my whole friendship circle then hear about this?
Whilst myself and boy travel buddy were retelling an alternative, far less
traumatic story to our friends, drunken friend misheard what we were discussing
and shouts, oh is this the story where you pooed in the sea. Yes as simple as
that.
Don’t tell embarrassing stories to best friends unless you
are prepared for exposure. FACT.
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