This blog was originally published as The Devil Made Me Do It in June 2013 as a guest post for Renee Schuls-Jacobson‘s So Wrong blog series. It’s an embarrassing and true tale from my past that I think really portrays the finer details of true love and underpants. Some edits have been made to update the post.
I am a picture-perfect citizen.
I pay my bills on time. I vote. I use hand signals while driving if one of my lights has burned out. One would assume I have control over my bowels.
Let me backup. My husband and I take a vacation together each summer. We’ve traveled to Portland, Oregon and eaten Voodoo Donuts; we’ve visited Toronto, Ontario and viewed the skyline from the CN Tower. Two summers ago, we decided to take a road trip out west. Starting in the Badlands, we made our way to Yellowstone National Park. It was a fabulous trip.
Except for the day we toured Devil’s Tower.
That August day, the temperatures climbed into the 90’s. Being a mature adult, I was prepared. I packed and wore sunscreen. I drank water all morning. I used the bathroom before we left!
It didn’t matter.
We started our hike around the base of the tower. We weren’t too far in when I felt a rumbling in my gut. I asked to sit on a bench for a minute, pretending to enjoy the view. There was a fleeting moment when I thought to myself, “I should turn back… I COULD turn back… The smart thing to do would be to turn back.”
But alas, that’s not the way this story goes.
It became crystal clear, halfway around the tower, that my mind and body were not at peace. In fact, they were in deep negotiation. And things were getting heated.
When the cramping got so bad that I had to sit down again, I started weighing my options.
1.) I could try to skulk off somewhere. I had every intention of doing just that if it wasn’t for the unsuspecting family giving their children piggy back rides nearby. There was nowhere far enough out of eyesight for me to go.
2.) I could stay on the bench and breathe. This wasn’t really working all that well so far, but a girl can pray. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the cramping is with me…”
3.) I could jump off the cliff’s edge and end my misery once and for all.
In retrospect, I wish I’d chosen the cliff.
Because that’s when I shit my pants.
“Sweet Virgin Mother, what the hell just happened?!”
The worst part was telling my husband (who was my boyfriend at that time) what had occurred. How would he ever look at me with any sense of romance or mystery again? I considered myself a dignified person. But I had just shit my pants! In public! And we were only halfway around Devil’s Tower!
Nothing – and I mean nothing – will ever compare to the cold, wet, mall-walker sprint that I made during my descent from Devil’s Tower. And my husband-then-boyfriend, wonderful man that he is, tried to cheer me up on our journey.
“You’re almost there! You got this! On the bright side, I don’t smell anything!” he shouted from a few yards behind me.
Making my way to the crowded public bathroom, I took note of the collateral damage. The underwear was a goner. I was just lucky I wore full coverage undies that day and not a thong.
I shimmied out of my underwear, wrapped my soiled mess in TP, and dumped everything in the plastic bin where women leave their feminine hygiene products. Then I said a little prayer for the park custodian, cleaned myself up, and walked back to the car no longer feeling feminine or hygienic.
So the moral of the story is sometimes even the best of adults crap their pants. But if you’re lucky, you’ll have someone by your side cheering you on with an upbeat, “You got this!” and “I don’t smell anything!” And when you find that special someone…
Ask them to buy you new underwear.
There you have it, my dirty little secret. Has this ever happened to you?
Sweet Mother Mary, tell me I’m not alone!
Post Script… I thought it’d be a fun fact to share with you all that the desktop image on my laptop is a picture of Devil’s Tower. It reminds me to have a sense of humor about life…and to pack extra undies when traveling.
Even better the second time around. And I love the addition of the new underwear! LOL.
Thanks Renee! And thanks for still being friends with me after admitting I pooped my pants on your blog!
Trust me. You are not alone…
Let’s talk. 😉
OMG! LOL. I missed this the first time so thanks for reposting. And…you’re definitely not alone. I had my own moment like that, though no single pair of undies could EVER have held in what I launched. Let’s just say I’ll never, ever, climb Dunn’s River Falls again, and neither should anybody else (though I’m assured the water has probably washed away all the evidence). And I still say little prayers of thanks for that poor woman in the bathroom who had to deal with the toilet, the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. (because losing a load in the falls wasn’t all my body had to offer, apparently).
And to my hubby, who murmured soothing words and held my hand as I stumbled to the bathroom, and even hosed me off after. That’s true love, right there.
I’ve had some close moments, but nothing this bad. I’m sorry, but I was laughing so hard when I read this! This did happen to someone in the back seat of my car one time when a couple rode with us to a car show. I thought we would never get the stain out….
Oh lawdy!!! Least I didn’t stain the national park!
Ha! I just watched Sex in the City and had forgotten that Charlotte had pooped her pants!
I feel a kinship to her!
Just saw it again!
I remember this from the first time you posted it. Then again, it’s not a story one easily forgets! Can’t say it’s ever happened to me, but I feel sort of inspired to share a dating horror story I once guest posted on a friend’s blog. The only problem is, it mentions oral sex and my mom reads my blog. What to do, what to do?!
You could share it here, Mark. 😉
Well, I should have said if Jess didn’t mind. It might be too “R” rated for the blog. LOL
Hmm. You have a good point, Lauralynn. I guess that’s up to Jess…
I’m for it! Game on!
Ha. Well, alrighty then. I’ll have to revise the original post a bit, since it’s now 4 years old and circumstances have changed slightly. But I’ll email it to you later this week, and feel free to use it as you wish. Free publicity is free publicity, even if the story is cringeworthy. But at least my date didn’t shit her pants. 😉
Oh heck yes!
LOL. You are a grown man. She can probably handle it.
Screw it. http://markmywordssite.com/2015/02/27/the-old-girl-with-the-dragon-tattoo/
That’s the best story ever! I’ve had countless bathroom dilemma’s with floaties, usually at my bff’s so her parents were like second parents anyway. They just put the kettle on and grabbed the dishwashing soap. But the time a bit older at my mother in law’s caravan OMG! To this day they don’t know any of it and I shudder in memory of what I had to do. 🏃
Hahahaha the horror! I so know how you feel!
This one initially caught my attention because I am from a town in WY that is so close to Devils Tower, we could see it from our house. Then, I kept reading and almost crapped MY pants from laughing … with you, because I had a similar craptastic hiking experience at Mt. Whitney. You are not alone 😀 I love how your husband-then-boyfriend encouraged you by letting you know he couldn’t smell anything. That’s something special!
Oh yah he’s so thoughtful. Do tell this Mt Whitney story.
A true love story never ends.
Let’s hope it goes on and on.
Ha. The things social media lets us share. It’s crazy…and awesome. I love your husband-then-boyfriend’s response. What a great reminder of what a true friend and love looks like.
He’s constant. Like a flowing stream, or the feeling you get when you have to poop. I don’t why I didn’t put that in our vows.
Okay, TMI Jess! lol. How did I miss this the first time? lol.
Thanks for “dropping” by Karen! 😉
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