It's my understanding that Meghan and I can take credit for the poop canon as it exists today. We've devoted a great deal of thought and type to the topic of poop. It began as a quick email or text message notifying one another of, say, a "lucky day" (Note to the uninitiated: that's when you don't have to wipe, and I grew up in a family where one was expected to interrupt dinner in order to share this kind of terrific news.) Quickly, our accounts became more lengthy, more inquisitive, more literary, and a lot more involved, and thus the birth of PoopGroup in its first incarnation. There were eight or so members. We shared stories, posed questions, rooted for one another when the going was good, offered support when not. The problem was its exclusivity--being a Mac Group, everyone had to have a .Mac account. We kept up with it for a while, but to no one's surprise, it fizzled out when people dropped their .mac accounts in lieu of free gmail addresses.
So you can imagine my delight when Meghan offered to join forces and reinstate PoopGroup as a public forum! She and I are going to moderate it, and we largely aim to advance our shared belief that "#2 is #1" (Meghan's words). People seem only to take poop into consideration when doctors call it "stools" or scientists call it "feces" or when Ben Stiller did his thing on There’s Something about Mary and thus it seems to be either a source scrutiny, shame, or humor. But what, Meghan and I passionately demand, what about the pleasure?! And who are you supposed to turn to when you want to know, say, why your poop looks like sun-dried tomato paste? Or what the deal with wet wipes really is? And don’t we all have our own blockage remedies? And haven’t you always wanted to share with the world that one time when you shit your pants running up the stairs in Eaton Hall at Willamette University?
But without further adieu!! Meet Meghan!!
So. I love pooping. I have harbored and nurtured this love for many years- my longest, most real affair since birth. For all of the time spent thinking about it, talking about it, and writing about it, I only just recently had my first fecal epiphany.
Over Christmas break, I was home on Long Island visiting parents and brothers, eating ridiculous amounts of food and drinking wine and beer. I credited my constant pooping (three times a day, all solids of substantial size) to these acts- more food than I am used to eating, more homemade healthy meals, more beer for longer hours at a time... It was so bad that my parents teeny house on a very small strip of land became smelly due to backed up septic tanks. Granted the water table on this part of the island is only about 4 ft below the surface, but i was pooping enough to actually clog the tank. Embarrassing and thrilling.
Last weekend, I visited them again. This time for only about 24 hours. However, I pooped 4 times. Solid, sizable, beautiful. All at once it hit me- My poop is completely affected by my stress. In my apartment in Brooklyn, in which I have lived since August, I can't remember one single pleasurable #2. It could be the rushing, the unhealthy living, the self-consciousness that comes with two craigslist roommates, but not ONE! The best experiences have been at my friend Jess's apartment (she has lived there for 6 years- more like "home" to me) and work (three years).
How depressing is that! I refuse to believe that if I want a consistent, substantial and satisfying poop life I need to move out of the city- but if that is true, what do I choose?
Send me an email if you want to be part of PoopGroup.
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