The Day I Pooped My Closet

 

Dear the Internets,

This is a true story.

This is my true story.

I lay down my dignity for you, because I love you very much.

Sincerely,
Beth

 

Once upon a time, I pooped my closet. 

I was pregnant.

With twins.

Approximately 100 years pregnant with twins, judging by my size, but really only 7 months or so, which made me roughly larger than a semi-truck and smaller than the Empire State building. Big, in other words, especially since I started the pregnancy “fluffy” according to a nurse who was kind and wonderful and didn’t call me chubby to my face for which I will always love her something fierce.

Fluffy to begin, I was, and then I got, well, fluffier. Growing two babies does a number on the body, and mine popped out in all sorts of delightful places not limited to my belly. No; I’m pretty sure my hind end, my thighs and my breasts were growing sympathetically in proportion to my middle, good girlfriends that they were, not wanting my belly to feel alone in all the fluff. 

Now I didn’t spend much time feeling badly about my weight because I’d lost 3 babies to miscarriage years ago, and now my body was making two of them, so HOT DAMN, Fluffy Body; you ROCK, you know?

Still, every time my mama walked into my house, she’d catch sight of my largess and her eyes would pop and her face would pale and she’d say, “Honey, you’re as big as a barn” and “You know you’re going to have those babies early, right? Because YOU CANNOT GET ANY BIGGER, Child; THERE’S NO WHERE ELSE FOR THOSE BABIES TO GO except OUT OF YOU” which I think was her prayer or an exorcism of sorts: IN JESUS’ PRECIOUS NAME, I COMMAND YOU TO GET OUT, Babies! 

So I was big, is what I’m saying. Or Enormous if one wants the technical, scientific description. And that meant it was hard to move, particularly if I was sitting or laying down or anything other than already in motion per Newton’s First Law of Motion which I’m sure he discovered whilst watching someone pregnant.

And I was tired all the time because a) growing two babies is hard work, man, and b) lugging the three of us around was tantamount to getting a cruise liner in and out of port; slow, tedious, a real nail-biter in close quarters.

On the day of the incident, I laid myself down in bed and took a nap. A nap! Which, in case you don’t have kids, I’ll tell you is a miracle both in scope and in frequency because naps are precious and rare, friends. If I ever get to nominate anything for sainthood — anything to sit at the right hand of God the Father in Glorious Heaven — it will be naps. People will be like, What about Mother Teresa who selflessly cared for the destitute and dying? And I will be all, MOVE OVER, TERESA because NAPS. 

So I was taking a nap in my nightie sans panties because I could no longer figure out how to lasso those things around my ankles much less wrestle them all the way up my legs, but I was awakened by an urge to go potty. I ignored it, of course, because NAP and exhaustion and the impractical nature of moving the ship out of port, and I fell back asleep, only to be awakened again and again.

Le sigh.

The age old decision of Go Potty vs. Stay in Bed compounded by Pregnancy. It’s a doozy, I tell you, but I finally decided to wrestle myself from the bed and make the trek through our master closet to the en suite bathroom and relieve myself.

Only, on the way, I farted.

Except it wasn’t just an air poopy like I thought.

It was a poopy poopy.

Followed by another poopy poopy.

Followed by another poopy poopy.

Poopies in rapid succession making good their escape and rushing to freedom. 

And, as I was sans panties, each soft poopy slid to the closet floor with little puh-looping sounds and sat there like brownie batter, soaking into the carpet. 

I, of course, was no longer in the proper physical condition to get my carcass down on the floor to clean it up, but I was also full of abject humiliation and paralyzed at the thought of a) telling my husband I’d just pooped our closet, and b) asking him to clean it. 

So I did what anyone in my situation would do: I stood in a sea of poopies and cried.

And cried.

And cried.

Which is where Greg found me. In my nightie. Standing in a field of daisies minus the daisies and plus my feces. Sobbing.

He tried to bundle me off to bed so he could scrub the carpet, but I wasn’t then and am not now a woman who appreciates being bundled, so, through my hiccuppy sobs, I asked the man to lower me to the closet floor, bring me a scrub brush and carpet cleaner and let me clean up my own mess in privacy. Complete privacy please, I begged, “You go AWAY, Greg. Go FAR, FAR AWAY and try to FORGET THIS EVER HAPPENED. I know we vowed for better or worse, in sickness and health, but THAT WAS A CROCK, MAN. I meant for better or worse FINANCIALLY, and in sickness and health WITH NURSES TO CLEAN OUR BOTTOMS. I did not agree to THIS. To Poop Fest 2006. So I need you to go AWAY and breathe peppermint and imagine me back when I wasn’t a closet pooper. PLEASE, man; I BEG YOU. GO AWAY.” 

And so he did. He brought me supplies. He lowered me to the floor. He went away. 

But I should’ve agreed to the bundling, because I spent the next half hour sitting crisscross in the closet trying to reach past my babies to scrub the carpet, and you guys… you guys… every time I shifted, I touched poop. To the left, my knee hit poop. To the right, my thigh nudged poop. Like St. Patrick’s prayer, except instead of Christ behind me, before me, beneath me, above me, to my left and to my right, where I sit and where I lie, it was POOP. I mean, Jesus was there, too, but mostly POOP.

Due to belly size, I didn’t have the leverage to clean. So instead of cleaning, I smeared. And when I freaked out that I was smearing — I am smearing poop in my closet. OH MY WORD. I AM SMEARING POOP IN MY CLOSET. — I smeared some more. OCD poop cleaning, except without any actual ability to clean. Obsessive compulsive poop smearing. I’m pretty sure that’s a diagnosable psychiatric condition. 

Well, eventually, I quit. Wisdom is the better part of valor, after all, and although I admittedly like to exhaust valor before I let wisdom through the door, I could admit I’d tried and was defeated and needed Greg to finish.

I went to get him. 

I mean, I tried to go get him, but that’s when I discovered my legs were asleep after being trapped under the belly all that time. 

I pulled on the dead weight of my legs to get them out from under me, sticking them straight out from my belly — and into the wasteland — to revive them, but no feeling came back. Minutes and minutes of leaving my legs in poop and just no feeling at all because they were still beneath my belly, even sticking out, and the belly was still good at cutting off blood. 

So I laid down.

In the closet.

In smeared poop. 

And Greg came back a half hour later to find me there, with poop on my hands and poop on my legs, lying in the poop I’d smushed into the carpet. 

In conclusion, I once pooped the closet.

And also, being married to me is THE BEST. 

So listen, friend. You might be having a down day. You might be going through a rough patch. You might wonder if you’re the only one sitting in a giant, figurative pile of poo. But I am here to tell you, if you are not sitting in a giant, literal pile of poo, you’re doing better than you know. Better than you know, friends, and better than me that day. 

Sending love to you,

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ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
450 comments
  1. I laughed and sobbed so hard I swear I stopped breathing for five minutes. Ohhhh, how I needed this laugh today in the middle of doing all the work to prep my house to be put on the market! Having had twins myself at 5’0″ short, I totally understand it. Tears are still streaming down my face and I swear my lungs had a better workout than going to the gym!!!

  2. I think you’re my best friend.

  3. SO I have my own closet story – which now seems far less traumatizing having read yours. I have six kids – one of my own and five stepkids. I can relate to much of what you write. Here is my closet story https://bradynoalice.wordpress.com/2012/03/08/ive-reached-an-all-time-low/

  4. This was incredibly well written. I can hear this as a monologue. I sobbed through snorts of laughter. Unfortunately/comedically I was in the office during this outburst with my male colleagues….so it was a difficult to explain this manic combustion. Your husband did precisely what mine would…allow you to try to be dignified and then return at the breaking point. Cheers to men who know how to let their ladies be independent but come back to rescue us when drowning without judgment. Blessings to you, Greg and the family.

  5. This was so funny. Thanks for sharing so candidly. I loved it all and laughed and laughed.

  6. Oh my goodness. I am currently pregnant with twins after three losses and this both made me feel so much better and so terrified at the same time. Thanks for the good laugh… And warning.

  7. I love your husband. What a man. This will go down in history as one of the best things that I have ever read. Thank you for sharing. I think.

  8. Well, I’ve been educated on grammar, spelling….etc will y’all just leave it alone and enjoy the moment, and laugh your ass off!!

  9. I had to stop in the middle of reading this to go potty or I would have peed my pants I was laughing so hard! After I sat down and resumed reading, I had to get up again for a tissue to wipe away the tears streaming down my face. Thank you, Beth, for bringing some sunshine and laughter to a grey day, and for helping me get some exercise!

  10. Yes, at the time it’s not funny at all. Pregnancy and childbirth are not the beautiful miraculous events touted in the glamourized check out counter magazines, or the cutesy books with the little cartoon babies with the ginormous blue eyes and perpetual grin. Oh, no, not by a stretch. Mine were 9.1 and 10.12 and I had 3 losses. Once you become pregnant, EVERYTHING from your scalp to the floor all of a sudden takes on 2 major transformations. The first is, nothing works the way is used to or should from that day forward. Second, everything becomes public property. You can just go on and throw any shred of dignity right out the window, never to be seen again. Oh, well, it’s worth it, right?

  11. I had a baby that weighed over 10 pounds and broke my toe cause I couldn’t see my feet! I so feel your pain!!! This story was absolutely hilarious!!!!! I enjoyed it so much I read it out loud to my kids… lol

    1. Did you drop the baby on your foot? Haha j/k… one of mine was 10.12… I get it. When we went to deliver, the first thing one of the nurses said was Oh you must be one of our twin moms!

  12. This is, hands down, THE most hilarious thing I’ve ever read. I mean, I’m sure there was nothing funny about it at the time, but I’m SO glad that time has eased the pain enough so that you could share it with it us. Thank you.

    I had to share it on my blog too, hope you don’t mind. There’s even a poop emoji, because I just had to. Mad love.

  13. I have a similar story, and if I knew you, I’d take you out for a drink and tell you. All I know is that my husband got more than he bargained for, because our vows never included the words, “in sickness and in health and I will clean up poop (dog, baby, yours) so long as we both shall live.” I love how you’ve addressed that here. The fact that he can look me in the eyes and still want to kiss me is incredible.

  14. Please correct your article:

    largesse (with an e on the end or without is STILL not the word you were looking for) has NOTHING to do with size.

    [lahr-jes, lahr-jis]

    noun
    1.
    generous bestowal of gifts.
    2.
    the gift or gifts, as of money, so bestowed.
    3.
    Obsolete. generosity; liberality.

    1. You are being pretty annoying.

    2. I loved reading her story… and then I got to your comment. You killed my giggles. If you are that unhappy with your life don’t get on the internet, mmmkay. (omg… don’t freak out that’s not a word!).

    3. Thank you for your kind invitation to correct my article, including the spelling and definition of largess, complete with handy pronunciation guide.

      Unfortunately, I decline.

      Largess, an acceptable spelling of largesse (see also: The Merriam Webster Dictionary, Dictionary.com, The Free Dictionary, Oxford Dictionaries, etc.) is, in fact, the word I meant to use.

      It’s a play on words. Generous bestowal of gifts as evidenced by my ENORMOUS size. Get it? Largesse? With the root word large?

      That is all.

      Have a super day.

      1. Totally understood all of it! Some much more than I would like to admit.Thanks for sharing!

      2. Beth, I think you handled that beautifully. 🙂 The correction may have been given with the very best of intentions and I don’t think Angie should be treated so harshly. Her correction may not have been needed, but she probably thought you might want to know if you misspelled something. One time I read an email where someone insulted me and said some false things about my character. She didn’t even know me and she was saying such things! It was really hurtful. Point is, there are ways to state your opinion without being so mean in return and I think did a good job with that. 🙂

      3. I loved the use of “largess”. It made me laugh. Some people are so full of themselves that they can’t see their own stupidity. Your story was the funniest thing I’ve read in a looong time! My daughter sent it to me. Keep up the good work!!!
        Karen

      4. I don’t know you but I love you! Awesome response.

    4. Angie, what a total ass you are…..not: Any of several hoofed mammals of the genus Equus, resembling and closely related to the horses but having a smaller build … but, a combining form of ass in the sense of ‘stupid person’ or ‘the buttocks’, used in slang words as an intensifier or with disparaging intent:lets try rude-ass here. Please go somewhere else and try to find something wrong with your apparent perfection!!!

    5. “Angie” (I’m surprised you use a shortened form of your name). You are a person who appears totally lacking in humour. It would seem that (perhaps because of your inadequate of the English language) you felt the need to look up a word with which you were unfamiliar and having done so have felt the need to spread the largesse of your newly found knowledge, perhaps in the belief that you will appear intelligent or well educated.Perhaps you are but you are also lacking in wit and generosity of spirit.If someone tells you a joke do you stop them and ask if there’s a silent “k” in front on that knock knock? You really are a poor individual who enjoys sucking the joy out of life. Shame on you.

    6. OMG we have the grammar police here now! And someone who copies and pastes to prove they are more intelligent than the average person. Why not read the story and take it for what it is? Its a funny that some of us have experienced at one time or another or have come very close to it!!!!! I mean seriously, wat r u goin ta do whan somone keeps mispelling wurds and not puttin carrect wurds on an artical. If sumethin lik tat annoies u dat much den ya ned to go loc yoself up in a room away from evry puter and newpaper availble becuz heven forbit and lort hav murcy if sumeone is les intellegint than you are or so ya thank

    7. And By the way Angie, you are evidently a little troll who obviously has nothing better to do all day than to ruin someones funny!! I can picture you, a small framed woman, with a big ol arse sitting on the couch in front of the lap top searching desperately in each article, for anything to correct, jumping from article to article to dictionary page, “searching each “big” word. Matching that “big” word to make sure it is correctly placed in each sentence and the joy that you feel when you find that one little word or misspelling that you think is a mistake. You carefully copy and paste the whole definition, pronunciation and all to the comments because you cant remember all of it just to make yourself feel as though you are the smartest one in the whole wide world, I can even imagine you having green hair and skin and horns, troll troll troll. You have a wonderful day, sitting in front of that computer finding things to correct, with your diet coke and box of little debbies

    8. You must be a real gas at parties.

  15. […] been reluctant to tell you this story, lest you think I frequently poop myself. I told you about the time I pooped my closet. And now I’m telling you about the time I pooped the sushi restaurant. I swear, I don’t […]

  16. […] Read this one by Beth Woolsey if you need a good laugh. […]

  17. Loved it.

    -Traumatized Twin’s Mom

  18. Beth is a hell of a drug!

  19. Oh Lordy, that is two hysterically funny stories! But, I have to ask, Beth, how long did it take for feeling to come back into your legs???

  20. I have also had twins. This story made me laugh so hard I was crying. Then my husband asked me to please go someplace else as my laughter was disruptive and distracting him. I am silently convulsed with laugher as I type, and tears are running down my face. The more I try to be quiet, the more I laugh…thank you for the laugher work out. Gonna have a sore belly tomorrow!

    1. ME TOO… Twins… and having once been trapped on the floor… Like a bug on its back. TEARS POURING DOWN MY FACE RIGHT NOW!!!! Such boldness to tell this story… Bring it Mama… you got just about anything next!

  21. […] entwined with my heart. But because I say SO MUCH otherwise here, and I never, ever, ever want my ridiculous stories or my potty mouth to reflect negatively on the work of Medical Teams. I never want my laissez […]

  22. I love you. That is all.

  23. Most hilarious thing I read today! Makes me not look forward to ever being pregnant, though… Please tell me it’s worth it?
    https://currentlylovingsimplicity.wordpress.com/

    1. Not even fucking close!! I once had triplets… And had to push them out of my asshole!

  24. Oh Beth… this is so close to my truth this morning it’s not even funny… yet.

  25. Oh.My.Word. This is one of the funniest things I think I have ever read! I’m so sorry that you had to go through that but it certainly did give you something to remember, huh? lol You told the story beautifully I could just picture you the whole time. Thank you for sharing!

    1. That was so funny!!! I also had to stop reading so I could wipe the tears of laughter from my face. Mercy that was incredible writing to turn a huge embarrassment into one of the most hilarious stories EVER!

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