Land of Dairy: Bathroom Misunderstanding

Ok. So growing up in the deep South, even though I did so from 3rd grade on in the big ole' city of Houston... some things get absorbed without you even noticing. Call it familial osmosis. Some random stupid things and some great things get absorbed by your childhood irrational mind without your consent. For example: I'm usually polite, I know what good etiquette is even if I don't choose to follow it all the time. I like to be on time, I can handle heat outside if I need to, I'm not afraid of water even when I can't see through it, the list could go on. One of the weird strange stupid things though is that... my bladder can be shy. My grandmother taught me that girls don't admit that they have a TOM or that they poop, my mom reinforced this by being ashamed of herself for pooping too. Some excerpts from my grandmother's teachings and my mom's actions: If you have to dispose of feminine products, you cover them up in the trash COMPLETELY no matter if it takes an entire roll of toilet paper. If you do have to go to the bathroom you never say why, or if pressed say you have to pee. Never leave a smell in the bathroom, and if you need to spray air freshener do so when you are flushing the toilet because then no one will hear you spray it. If you have to pass gas, and you should NEVER need to then do so in some way where no one ever knows. My mom wouldn't even do so post-hysterectomy until the doctor told her she had to or she couldn't leave the hospital. She was absolutely mortified when he then made her do it with him and I in the room to prove that she did. THAT was funny.

At least I'm not as much a slave to this stupid brainwashing as my poor mother is. Think shitbreak from American Pie. She can't go to the bathroom in a hotel room with anyone else present. Her boyfriend of 6 years has never been in the same house with her when she took a poo. Ever. On a cruise we took she had to have us leave the room, go to a different deck, and then we'd all catch up to get off the boat for the day. She goes days without sometimes it's so shy. Think Elliot from Scrubs but less adorably neurotic and more insane. She can with me around at least... yay me???

Moving on.... SP's family's house on the farm has 1.5 baths, but I didn't discover the .5 until day 3. The one main bath is literally in the center of the house. I have very good hearing, though I found out later no one who works on or grew up on a farm does thanks to all the equipment, guns, etc. I could hear what was going on in this bathroom in every room of the house (unless TV's were on very loudly and then that only saved the inhabitants of that room), including the basement thanks to the laundry chute right next to the toilet. This freaked me out intensely upon arriving there after a 16 hour car ride. How could I do the no-no in this house?! Somehow I can go ok in public places as long as no one else is in the public bathroom.... and I was flooded with thoughts of how that was going to work out over 12 days!! Immediate deep south terror! None of which would I DARE tell my boyfriend because I can't TALK about these things!!! That would be worse than the fact that I don't actually poop candy.

I ran the shower while I peed the first time, then I went to shower after I was done. That first night there we actually went to a friend's of his, and they had 2 bathrooms far from the action!!! I was so relieved it was ridiculous. They tried to get me drunk. I proceeded to make drunken comment about bathrooms that somehow got misconstrued as me being a pretentious Texan who expected all houses to be large and have multiple bathrooms. Which pissed off SP, who of course in his drink enhanced state pressed the issue and called me a pretentious Texan. I spluttered and apologized and told him he misconstrued my comment. He asked how. I was speechless. There was no way I could explain this to him... and his friends. In fact, I was paralyzed trying to decide what was better... these people thinking I was a bitch (this was his best friend and the wife of the best friend etc., important people in other words) or them knowing I poop. I couldn't make myself admit to the poop. I felt like such an ass for making myself look like a bitch to hide my sad inability to poop rainbows.

I FINALLY broke down and told SP what that was all about on the drive back from WI (11 days after this happened). He laughed his ass off at me, then of course asked why I didn't just say so... told me it was much much worse to leave it the way I did, blah blah. I'm still sad I actually poop regular poop though. :(