The Menstrual Poop.

In high school, I would get sent home on the regular for passing out from my debilitating menstrual cramps. Passing out would give me the same instant relief like throwing up or having diarrhea. I wonder if I can survive giving birth? Apparently, those cramps are caused by the body’s release of a chemical signal called prostaglandin, which signals the uterus to contract. Cramps result when the body produces a little bit too much prostaglandin, which can cause a contraction so strong, it cuts the blood supply to the uterus off. Ouch! I don’t experience those pass-out worthy contractions anymore, just slight cramping which I fully embrace because apparently, the excess prostaglandin has found its way to my anus, causing me to poop instead! So my body is now working with me, giving me the kind of relief I can appreciate.

Resources: Popular Science

Eco-friendly & Butt-friendly One-Ply.

I’ve already established that I’m a fan of one-ply toilet paper understandably so. But for those who refuse to demote themselves to the degrading one-ply, I encourage you to a) think about the toilet paper shortages all over the world  (I’ll be running that line on my future children even more than the “starving children in Africa” line) and b) consider trying Walgreen’s/Duane Reade’s eco-friendly line called Ology’s toilet paper, which is made from sugarcane husks and bamboo (not trees) and feels somewhere in the middle of a one-ply and two-ply roll. I prefer to buy the single rolls of 1,000 sheets because I’ve done the math and they definitely last a lot longer. Plus they look more inviting on a toilet paper roll holder. 

Ology toilet paper roll

Never Hold It In!!

It took me much of my adolescence to overcome my fear of any unexpected self-inflicted bodily violence in the form of food rejecting barf or explosive diarrhea. As a child, every time I threw up, I would immediately cry. Perhaps it was the feeling of hot lava burning my esophagus followed by the aftertaste of a spoiled spaghetti sauce and stomach bile cocktail that I found so traumatizing. But who’s to say? I’m so happy bulimia could have never worked out for me! Diarrhea was the same story. It wouldn’t drive me to tears, but I would hold it in until I turned green. I was terrified of diarrhea because it would burn my a*hole as it exited, coloring the entire toilet with toxic excrement full of identifiable food particles, while exuding a foul odor that could penetrate bricks and mortar. No thank you.

But my mother’s constant reassurance that I would feel better after either throwing up or exploding on the toilet is what allowed me to finally heed my body’s warnings. I even admire diarrhea now for its hurricane speed and the instant relief in its aftermath. I don’t understand anymore why anyone would want to stop or delay this act of God by taking Pepto-Bismol or Imodium when a solution to one’s ills can be had with just an express trip to the bathroom! Just make sure to always carry a book of matches (AKA air fresheners) in your purse.

shit anywhere matches

Express Yourself.

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Today was a “water day” and not because it’s raining outside, but because the water at the Doody Free Girl headquarters was shut off due to maintenance, and therefore, all colonic appointments had to be cancelled. So I got to stay home and ponder ways in which you can express yourself and start talking crap with your loved ones. Here are some segues into one of life’s most important conversations.

The best way to express yourself is right at the moment when nature calls. If it’s a boyfriend, it should be a gentle “I need to use the bathroom. Please don’t wait for me, I’ll be a while” or “I gotta go, if you know what I’m saying” or “I need to take care of business” or for the more brazen, “Excuse me, but I really have to drop a deuce.” This should go over well as long as you don’t adopt a trucker’s mouth. Keep it ladylike and never apologize. It’s okay if he initially says “eeew” or “groooossss.” Just giggle as you skip to the loo. Hopefully, he asks you how you’re feeling after you relieve yourself to which you respond, “Soooo much better. Thank you for waiting.” Then end the conversation with a huge smile and sigh of relief. This will make him feel like he’s contributed, while opening the door for further communication later on. You’ll be on the fast track to covering for each other as you bomb the bathroom of your favorite brunch spot.

Sharing bowel issues with females should be an easier task and involve much less anxiety. You can always win a girl over with one word: constipation. Girls love talking about constipation. I remember being so constipated after a flight to a women’s surf camp in Mexico that the only thing I could concentrate on in this paradise was getting the hard rocks out of my rear. I immediately broke the ice with another girl at this camp by discussing my utter frustration with travel constipation. She immediately took me to the local pharmacy to purchase an enema. I wasn’t ready to start sticking things up my bottom on vacation, but I was very much impressed with this chick’s knowledge of constipation remedies and overall acceptance of poop talk. And above all, she waited for me and encouraged me to take my time as I rocked back and forth on the toilet giving birth to a pile of rocks. She may live in London now, but this type of special bond can transcend the Atlantic.

So don’t be scared to talk about going #2. It unites and it feels damn good.

The Most Important Conversation.

A special bond forms when talking crap with my clients. I stick tubes up their rears and diarrhea of the mouth ensues. I always joke that I have really gotten to know NYC through the rear, but it’s the truth. Colonics are not exclusively an activity of the rich and famous nor the crunchy new age-y spiritual cleansers either. Both of which, by the way, are equally as fun. All walks of life drop their pants for me: Wall Street suits, housewives, a Buddhist monk, cancer patients, a Native American Shaman, a gay porn star, a Sheriff, college students, a constipated grandmother, models, a vegan MMA fighter, etc etc. No one has a problem sharing some heavy secrets with me. Trust happens when people feel like they are being taken care of, especially while their bowels are being addressed.

So keep this in mind the next time you are vacationing with some new friends or a new-ish boyfriend. If you are truly looking to connect on a deeper emotional and spiritual level, the fastest way is through the butt. My next post will address ways to ease into this conversation of utmost importance because if you haven’t had this conversation already, you don’t know crap about each other.

Who Do You Trust?

I remember the first time I talked about poop with a girlfriend better than I remember the first time I had sex (unfortunately, I think girls invest more anxiety into the former rather than the latter). This grade school friend of mine was in the bathroom with me and made fun of me for looking at the toilet paper to make sure it was clear after wiping my rear. In retrospect, she’s the freaking weirdo that just trusts her “feel”. She claimed she would just wipe until it felt raw. Sometimes I am most certain that the paper I just wiped my rear with will come back clean only to be deceived by my “feel” of the circumstances, and thus relieved I didn’t pull my underwear back up. But don’t worry, that girl and I stopped being friends as I obviously can no longer trust her judgement.

Luckily, I have a brother. We’d talk about length, girth, clog worthiness and how much weight we think we’d lost after a “nice juicy dump.” I think it’s important to have a family member to talk to about this when growing up. It’s clearly a major part of physical, mental and social development.

A client yesterday told me she has a crazy awesome aunt in California whose plumbing went out one night, so she was forced to poop in a bucket. Her aunt called her to laugh about the situation in which she was forced to go outside to throw out her own poop only to get stuck talking to the neighbors, poop in hand.  Keep in mind, she has no dog. But what she was really excited to tell her niece about was how surprised she was at the weight of her dump. It was REALLY heavy!! Cool, right?!! Now that’s an Auntie I can trust.

 

Because Sleep Farts Happen.

A client last week told me that a fart woke her up that morning. Better her than her boyfriend. Mastering the silent rip is an art.

Ladies, we all fart in our sleep. Sleep farts are a necessary evil that keep us from feeling like a bloated whale all day. While your midnight farts sound off, rest assured that they probably do not smell. So if you have a new sleep buddy, just make sure you don’t go commando after that kiss goodnight. A snug thong and pajama pants should mask the sound or a pillow between the legs if you find that comfortable. Sleep on your side or your back. Pop some chlorophyll pills before dinner if you’re paranoid of any putrid odor expulsion. 

Conclusion: never ever hold in your farts unless you’re entering an elevator.

 

Why You Really Need A Plunger In Your Bathroom.

Girls and boys, a proper bathroom should be outfitted with common emergency materials. The following advice is derived from actual events.

1. Keep a plunger directly next to your toilet, not in your laundry room, janitor’s closet etc. Why? Because your girlfriend just may take a massive dump and clog your toilet. Trust me, she will never admit to taking a McDump in your toilet nor will she ask you for a plunger.

2. Always have paper towels or fancy hand napkins available in addition to hand towels. Why? Because when your girlfriend decides to attempt plunging her first toilet at your place, you better believe muddy water is going to splash all over the floor. I’m pretty sure you don’t appreciate soiled bathroom towels discreetly placed back on the towel rack.

3. Always keep multi-purpose cleaning spray under the bathroom sink. Why? Because any lady or gentleman, when provided paper towels and cleaning product, will clean up after themselves. This is not limited to #2 emergencies, but also includes manly pee stream splits where only one stream actually lands in the toilet.

The Beauty of A Multi-Stall Configuration.

What better place to poop in opulence than at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina???!! Bonus (a somewhat-accurate history lesson): the Biltmore Estate is the largest privately-owned home in the United States owned by the Vanderbilts, who made their gazillions via railroad and steamboat pioneering.

Out of the 43 bathrooms in the Biltmore McMansion, tourists are only allowed to utilize the bathroom stalls in the horse stable, which has been turned into a beautiful restaurant, cafe and souvenir shops. So you can imagine the wait.

But a real lady takes her time in these situations, acknowledging that suffering from the urge to take a dump for the rest of the day will not only ruin the experience for herself, but for everyone in her path. So as I sat on the bowl taking care of business and a few selfies to pass the time, I thought about the other girls impatiently waiting for me to finish up. I reached an epiphany as I took my sweet time, which further proves my hypothesis that taking your time on the toilet pays off in more than one way. The truth is that those waiting need to relieve themselves as quickly as possible to get back to the house tour or shopping or whatever and then they’ll hardly care about who’s still suffering in Stall #3 . Once they finish relieving themselves, they are history! So even if I needed a half hour on the toilet, I will probably never ever see these gals again, not even for those three seconds I’m pretending to wash my hands. The girls I actually will encounter have probably only been waiting a few minutes.

So chew on this the next time you’re sweating in the stall listening to those complaining in line. Sit back and relax. You’re probably the only one taking a dump, which means they will get in a stall sooner than later. Consider this an excellent time to catch up on your Instagram.

bathroom stall selfie