Trigger warning: poo, poo and more poop.
So obviously during my A-Level exams, I was stressed. My lovely mother did most the cooking for me during this time – and she made an extra effort to make sure they were peng and nutritious veggie meals. By nutritious I mean they had a lot of the good shit in, like various types of beans. A gal needs that extra fibre, protein and iron to get 3 grade A’s (you bet your ass I did). I quickly realised that stress, for me = an IBS flare up. IBS + peng veggie meals = a lot of gas and poop.
As much as some of you are gonna deny it, I’m not the only one with this problem. So I’m gonna completely humiliate myself, to allow you to be able to relate to someone else.
When I can’t be arsed to cook at uni, I usually shove a sweet potato in the oven. What goes well with a sweet potato? Baked beans. 3 minutes in the microwave, sprinkle them with nutritional yeast and pumpkin seeds. Bam, you’re done. Dinner is served. But baked beans are more value for money to get the big tin size, rather than the pussy one portion size. So I get the big six pack (not abs, beans). My worst personality trait though, is my laziness. I can’t be bothered to cling film up the remaining half of the tin of baked beans, so I just have the whole tin (2 of my 5-a-day!!). The amount of fibre in a big tin though is almost life threatening to my toilet.
I have a candle in my room for no reason other than I need to cover up the gas leakage on the baked beans consumption days.
It’s all well and good when you have some sugared cinnamon to mask the smell of freshly digested baked beans. When you step into the big wide world after consuming double the recommended amount of fibre per day, issues start to arise. Here is a list of situations in which either an urgent need to shit or fart has come up:
- At a Tesco self-service machine
- In the queue for a Tesco self-service machine
- In the biscuit aisle of Tesco
- A personal tutor meeting
- A seminar, sitting near other people and my lecturer
- Serving a customer at work
- In the car with my mum and my mum only
- At the dinner table with my boyfriend’s parents, sibling, auntie and grandparents
That list is for the problematic situations. Being a bit gassy in the club however, is not a problem – you are surrounded by drunk people. They’ll never work out it was you. The trick is to wait until someone else responds to the smell, then screw your nose up, look behind you and just act disgusted. I realise I’ve kind of outted myself to my old flat mates now…I’m sorry Natty, that time in Players bar looked like you wanted to die.
In dramatic contrast, needing a poo in the club is the worst because I am a hygiene freak. I could not under any circumstances place my bum on a HIV-positive toilet seat. I will also never be able to squat and poo at the same time. Fortunately, touchwood, I have never needed to take a dump whilst slut-dropping to ‘I Love It’ by Icona Pop.
In all seriousness, if you’re suffering from IBS, my advice is to avoid stress at all costs, take numerous spa days (that you can’t afford), to help with this. Plan ahead for what you’re eating. Got an interview coming up? Fucking lock the baked-beans up and throw away the key. A date night? Don’t eat for the 24 hours beforehand so you have nothing to possibly be digesting during sexy time. Going to the cinema? Bring perfume so you can spritz it right after the air exits your anus. A fruity scent is the most reliable.
To be honest, if you’re gonna go out in public at all, just rock it. Be proud of that chemically rotten milk smell. There’s no escaping it.