Those who have followed me for a while, know that I am not shy about addressing taboo issues that “ladies do not speak of in public”.  Since that horse is out of the barn, what follows is in keeping with that tradition. I hope you don’t fall off your chairs reading it. Get ready for Meno-Poop Mondays!

I am turning 64 in a few weeks. Often when we reach midlife things can get blocked up! So, like many women my age, pooping is not a daily ritual that we take for granted.

After dealing with constipation most of my life, thankfully, with the help of a wonderful menopause specialist, I finally resolved my poop issues.  I have a wonderful poop protocol that works fantastically.  In fact, when I travel, I no longer am tormented by those annoying “travel issues” (travel constipation).  So many women can relate to this problem, that I dedicated a blog to this: MENOPAUSE MONDAYS® Not Pooping?!

My mornings are routine………I wake up and immediately meditate – then eat my bowl of fresh fruit sprinkled with organic wheat germ, sesame seeds, and cinnamon. This morning, up to this point, it was business as usual…but read on!

My girlfriend walked over, and we headed on our 6.2-mile walk around Coronado. I hadn’t pooped yet, but that is often the case. I felt good…and there was a spring in my step. We usually end up at my favorite coffee house. Normally, if I haven’t pooped before I walk, after my iced coffee, I “do my business” in the coffee house bathroom.

It was an unusually hot day, and I was dripping in sweat. We had a great brisk walk, and I was really thirsty.  I quickly swallowed a couple glasses of water and then downed my favorite Wonderblend iced coffee.  As I mentioned, sometimes this iced coffee is the key to a nice “clean out” for me. However, there is always quite a line to get into the stinky bathroom. As pooping is a luxury that I am now excited to have, I don’t care where I poop. I will poop in any bathroom – new – old- or disgusting. However, on that day I had absolutely had no time to wait in any long lines. I had no time to spare, needed to dash home, shower, and head to the grocery store, as I had a bunch of people coming for dinner. My whole day was completely booked down to the minute.  Virgo organized-ism is not to be taken lightly.  So, when I felt a very slight urge to “go”, I told myself, emphatically, that I had no time for it.

After chugging down my coffee, we immediately headed home.

We were chatting away when suddenly, I felt an unusually strong urge to poop.  I thought to myself, “We are 15 min from home– no problem.”  I kept pushing back this urge as we reached my friend’s house.  For a minute I toyed with the idea of using her bathroom, but I convinced myself that there was no need to do that. I dropped her off………. thinking that my house is just around the corner, I re-assured myself that I could hold this in – no problem.  My girlfriend hugged me goodbye and I bolted down the street as fast as I could.

Suddenly, the urge to poop was getting so powerful it felt more like a surge. I was talking to myself and encouraging myself to hang in, power thru.  I began speed walking. This is no easy task if at the same time you are clenching your butt cheeks together. Passing neighbors out in the front of their yards, I wondered if they could detect that all I could do was focus on tightening my sphincter muscle.  Try to smile and wave, while you are power walking with your butt in constant contraction mode. Not easy folks!

All the while I was whispering to myself, “You can do it.  You’re almost home.  No problem.”

Something warm began dripping down my leg.  I was speed walking like a maniac so I just assumed it was sweat.

The last minutes of the walk seemed more like 5 hours. I was desperate to get home. There was a very strange burning sensation in my tush but I tried to ignore it.

I flew into the house and ran to the closest bathroom.  I barely had a minute to pull off my brand new Lululemon shorts before the explosion hit the toilet!  I was so relieved as I was convinced, I had made it! Phew!

My eyes then glanced down at my shorts which were puddled around my ankles and I saw the dreaded mushy poop in my pants!  OMG -I had pooped my pants!  When did this happen?

My first thought was that I must have a very serious flu bug, but my stomach didn’t hurt.

Then the panic and shame washed over me.  How come I didn’t know my pants were full of poop?  Sitting there bewildered, I suddenly realized that these were my new Lululemon shorts.  I became clear and focused again. The poop had to go, the pants needed to stay.  I quickly realized that I couldn’t accomplish this on my own.  I needed help. It is important to note that in the past 41 years my husband, David, has never pooped in front of me. Not once! But, these were desperate times!

I looked up and yelled out those dreaded words, “ David, I pooped my pants.”

Nonplussed by the whole thing, David simply responded that he would get a garbage bag and we can throw out my pants.

Bewildered by his calmness, my hysteria elevated and I emphatically proclaimed, ‘I am not throwing out my new Lululemon shorts!  I need a bucket of water.’

My husband looked very perplexed but sweetly tried to calm me down by assuring me that lots of adults -all ages – poop their pants. ‘It’s no big deal,’ he stressed. I became more crazed and fixated on saving my new shorts.

I got off the toilet and stripped off the rest of my clothes. David brought me a bucket of water.  I dropped my shorts in the bucket and gazed in the bucket until the mushy poop slowly peeled away from my spanking new shorts and the water in the bucket browned. I found some old rubber gloves, carefully grabbed my shorts and with an up and down motion got the remainder of the gooey sticky poop off.

My husband was shaking his head in disbelief but realized very quickly not to mess with my extremely irrational decision to save the shorts.

He quickly slipped outside with the poop-filled bucket in hand.  It disappeared, never to be mentioned again.

Over the past 41 years, we have been through many difficult situations together………. he always shows up………. but honestly, this might be a topper.

Naked and in a cleanliness rage, I quickly put my shorts on the sanitize cycle in my washing machine.  They spun around for an hour and a half in scalding hot water and bleach. I then added more soap and ran them through the cycle one more time.  I then sterilized the washing machine by running the sanitize cycle again while empty. If I could have jumped in that machine, I would have.

Instead, I jumped in the shower, scrubbing myself repeatedly as if I could wash away the reality that I pooped my pants AND I had no idea when it happened. I then retraced every step I took and bleached the hell out of every single inch of space.  Afraid to get bleached, David stayed out of my vision.

After all was cleaned and scrubbed, I sat down and my mind was flooded with questions.  Did my girlfriend smell it?  Why didn’t I smell it? Was that slow drip coming down my leg -poop juice?!! OMG, did my neighbors notice that I had pooped my pants?!

My son, Jack, does a podcast with Doug Mand called Doodie Calls.  They interview comedians, performers, and others in the entertainment industry who have pooped their pants. I find the podcast hysterical, but I never could really relate.  I mean, I am a Grandma and have no problem with changing poopy diapers. But, how does a healthy adult with no medical issues, poop their pants? I was often taken by the desperation and panic their guests described before that crucial moment when they realized they were going to poop their pants. I felt the guests were brave to share their clearly embarrassing stories. They seemed to garner a sense of calm and unity being on the podcast.

Suddenly, I calmed down.  I realized -I just had my Doodie Calls moment.

I am in the club! I guess you could call it a rite of passage.

Remember:  Suffering in silence is OUT!  Reaching out is IN.

For great tips on how to find a menopause specialist and deal with menopause download my free eBook: MENOPAUSE MONDAYS the Girlfriend’s Guide to Surviving and Thriving During Perimenopause and Menopause. 

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