WARNING: May contain explicit material related to bodily functions.

I’m going to share something very personal here. If the above warning did not already scare you, I’m giving you one last chance to step away from the blog if you are unable to process real and raw information.

You’re still here? Okay, here goes….

Every time I step into Target, I get the urge to poop. I don’t know if it’s the smell of popcorn and coffee, the over stimulating environment, or the myriad of items to look at, but as I wander through it all, I lose focus and want to head for straight for the bathroom. Unfortunately, they stick their restrooms right at the entrance, which would require circling back through stuff and annoying people with screaming kids, only to feel like security is following me as I bring my cart past the registers as if I’m planning to bolt out without paying. And, even if I make it there, I’ll worry the whole time that one of the employees with take my abandoned cart and it’s items, leaving me to go through the store once again.

You are probably thinking, “does she actually poop in public bathrooms?” the answer is “yes, I do.”. I think my whole public poop-phobia was conquered when I was pregnant with my son. If I had to go, there was no waiting. Since then, I’ve gone in countless public restrooms with no concern at all. Target is not the only place that triggers this urge. Ross, TJ Maxx, Barnes & Noble, and now DSW, are also instant laxatives. I guess if I had an issue with ‘regularity’, I might shop more.

My latest encounter happened while shopping at DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse) with my husband and son. Our original intent was to find my husband some shoes. As we start strolling the aisles, I immediate get the ‘urge’ and shift my shoe scanning to bathroom locating. Thankfully, the restroom was near, because I knew this could not wait. This was a different feeling, the feeling of stomach flu, not just poo.

As I opened the door to the restroom, I heard another woman in a stall. I’m not entirely sure, but I think she, too, falls victim to the overstimulating shopping environment bowel trigger syndrome. Thankful the handicapped stall was available, I entered quickly and did my business. Yes, for sure, I caught the stomach bug and silently apologized to the woman in the adjacent stall. The next thing that happened was both unexpected, and more troublesome than my tummy troubles. While retrieving toilet paper from the roll. A 150 ply stack of TP emerged from the dispenser and exploded, like powder, all over me. It was like I’d eaten a giant powdered sugar donut and none of it reached my mouth. It was EVERYWHERE. I started frantically brushing off my jeans, which now looked acid wash. I picked tiny pieces out of my underwear, off my shirt, and even my face. I started sweating in my panic and wondered if I’d make it out of there dragging the rest of the roll behind me.

Finally, I felt I was cleaned up enough to emerge from the bathroom and find my family. When I approached my husband, he said, “what’s all over your pants?”. Clearly, I was unsuccessful with my toilet paper explosion clean up efforts. I really didn’t care anymore because I still had the flu, and I just wanted to get home and lay on the couch. I grabbed some shoes, along with my son and husband, we paid and left. It was a couple of days later that I realized I had picked out shoes I would never wear (they’ve been returned) and that my son somehow came home with $120 (we paid $80, BUT STILL) Penguin high tops. Clearly, I was distracted.

The moral of the story? HA! There’s no message here. This is just part of my life. And, I just bet, I’m not the only one who has this kind of ‘stimulating’ experience when they shop.