Biographies

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Oops I Crapped My Pants

I almost made it - I came so close to making it. A week in Mexico and no stomach issues! This, despite eating from a resort buffet, a little local restaurant at which I ate fresh ceviche on top of a secret-sauce-covered tostada, a street cart which served me something fairly unidentifiable, and even a few brave encounters with Drinking The Water.

My stomach survived it all, like a champ! Until it didn't.

Later that day - notice the shorts
We were feeding the fish. I'd put on my swimsuit in anticipation of eventually swimming, but first the kids were doing every non-swimming activity they could possibly dream of, since by that point in our week we'd learned that once you get into the water, you don't get out until sundown. So, they were feeding the fish while Paulie and I stood behind them, watching the joy on their faces every time a koi took their bait. It was a lovely, meandering, relaxing way to spend our final day of vacation.

Then, I farted.


This isn't a big deal because at this particular moment, it happened to be beneficially breezy. More importantly, I knew it was going to be a quiet one and therefore no one would ever know.

Quiet or not, however, this one felt...different. I pushed the thought aside while I woo-hooed the kids, trying very calmly to determine if I'd just shit my pants.

The kids were ready to move on, and the activity of walking the six feet over to the next pond made me very hot. That must be sweat dripping down my leg, I thought. At the third pond, I subtly reached my hand into the back of my pants, touched my wet butt area, pulled my fingers out and sniffed them. It was super subtle, I swear. Not like when you suspect your toddler has pooped and you grab them by the back of the pants, peer into their diaper and, not seeing anything, reach your hand inside just to make sure.

You have to admit, though - either scenario is a dangerous gamble.

Thank god I was wearing pants that day - I'd gotten my standard horrifically ugly sun rash on day 2 of vacation (like the one shown, from last summer, only about 12,000 times worse), so I'd decided that morning that my legs needed a break. Every day prior to that moment I'd been wearing shorts, a decision which would not have boded well on this occasion because, yeah, I'd sharted.

I casually announced I had to use the bathroom - when it comes to hiding the fact that I've just pooped myself, I am a master at discretion, as you can see. I 'cleaned myself up' as well as one can in the narrow stall of a five-star resort ladies room when dealing with the unfortunate result of the prior day's decision to binge on sauteed mystery greens and chorizo. While doing a Kmart clean on myself, the following conversation with myself went through my head:

Me - I'll just go into the pool to rinse the rest of this off

Me - Gross! That might make people sick. The ocean is better.

Me - What the fuck?! I'll just go back to the room and change! What is wrong with me?!

Me - But my whole outfit is based on this swimsuit!

Me - Ohmygod it's not about the outfit it's about the fact that there's green diarrhea in your pants!

Me - But I only have one pair of chonies left and this swimsuit was supposed to get me through the day!

Me - OHMYGOD ECOLI!!!

Me - Okay Okaaaaaaay, jeeez!

Don't worry - I did the right thing.

I told Paulie I had to re-sunblock the kids and that we'd be back in a flash. Once at the really-far-away room, I told the kids I was hot and thought I'd just take a quick shower, la de da, no big deal! They were busy arguing over candy as I then hand washed my swim bottoms and pants, and busy watching cartoons in Spanish while I layed everything out on the balcony to dry. For once their arguing and glazey-eyed TV watching was a blessing, because they didn't notice what I was doing or ask any questions.

Phew! Now no one will ever know!

I put on a different suit, lathered myself and the kids with more sunblock, and off we went for one last magical day in the tropics.

I heart Mexico.


p.s. The links found in the above story are the only reasons I was able to keep a sense of humor about this entire situation, and I've been calling them both to mind and laughing at myself ever since that fateful afternoon. You should click them.

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