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The day started out just like any other boring, routine day. I got up, made my coffee, cringed at my sleepy reflection in the mirror, had a piece of toast, and dreaded everything I had to do on my “DO IT” list.
No biggie, just a normal weekday.
As I shuffled, still half asleep, around the kitchen, I noticed I needed a few odd items from the store. Normally I’d go to Target, because, well, Target. Unfortunately, however, I live in a small town. We don’t have the luxury of a close Target.
I knew I had to go to the dreaded … *gulp* … Walmart.
Now, there are a few reasons I try to avoid Walmart. For one, it’s normally dirty. Second, there are people. Not just any people, but Walmart people. Third, I always, ALWAYS, have to go to the bathroom about halfway through my shopping experience.
It doesn’t matter how fast or slow I go, I always get that uncomfortable urge at some point while I’m throwing stuff in my cart.
There are sometimes I can hurry, and hold the inevitable until I get home. There are other times my bladder just won’t wait, and I cry a little on my way into Walmart purgatory.
The bathrooms are gas station chić.
For those that have not had the luxury of a Walmart bathroom, think gas station. Then take away the soap (always empty) and paper towels (also always empty). Never fear, however; the stench is the same, and the toilets are just as clean as any gas station.
To hover while peeing is to live.
On this particular day, I was not surprised when I was looking for earbuds in the electronics section and the urge hit.
Only, this urge was different. This was not my bladder. This was not my bladder at all.
There was NO WAY I was going to do this business at Walmart. No. This would entail sitting down (SITTING), and praying they had stocked the toilet paper (I had about 20% chance. Not great odds).
It was the thought of actually sitting down, on those less-than-clean toilet seats, that had me squeezing my butt cheeks and doing the “I’ve gotta poop” shuffle across the electronics section.
All of a sudden, s*** got real, literally.
My stomach made a funny gurgle-grumble noise, and I felt the urge to make a bee-line to the nearest toilet. I stopped what I was doing, braced myself, and had an internal argument with my colon about desperately not wanting to do this here.
I clenched my rear muscles tighter. Sweat started to gather on my brow as I worked hard to let the moment pass.
Okay. It was okay. The urge started to let up. I could wait. *Whew*
I quickly finished looking for my earbuds, and headed for the craft department to finish my shopping.
I passed a couple on the way to crafts and thought, Man, they smell bad. I kept going, turning onto the yarn aisle.
Good gosh, I thought, I can still smell those people. I kept going, though, shopping for the yarn I needed.
It was when I turned onto the office aisle, and still smelled “that smell,” I started to get concerned.
Is that … *sniff* … me?!?
Oh MY GOSH!! I didn’t do as good a job clenching as I thought.
I didn’t even think about it. I left my basket of groceries, and tried to nonchalantly run-walk to the bathroom located at the back of the store.
I will spare you the gritty details, but let’s just say I donated one pair of pretty panties to that Walmart bathroom trash can. I even wrapped them nicely in about a pound of toilet paper, just like a nice little present.
I was so embarrassed, I didn’t even go back for my cart. I just walked straight to those double sliding doors at the front of the store, and left.
I could not believe I had just pooped my pants at Walmart.