The inconvenience of feces.

One of the biggest inconveniences in my life – And I live in Vietnam so this must be a serious inconvenience – involves my bowel system. I think, really, it’s more directly my psyche. My brain is my biggest inconvenience.

My inconvenience isn’t anything diagnosable or official, I don’t have IBS or an intolerance for lactose or any other edible substance (or even most inedible substances), but it’s there nonetheless.

It’s not there often, however. In fact, its occurrence is few and far between. But I think that’s what makes it so inconvenient. I don’t expect it, I don’t plan for it and like acne on a smooth face, it really shows. My face spent most of its adolescence evenly raked with acne to the point that its uniformity blended in to my overall persona, and nobody noticed or gave it a second’s thought.

So I never had the problem you smooth-faced humans which lost you up to several thousands of your currency over the years on cosmetics trying desperately to hide it and prevent it from happening again, even though we all secretly know the cosmetics are completely ineffective and it’s simply your own body healing itself in the time it takes the acne to go away.

Make-up is a more effectual technique males are increasingly brave to use, but with the money you all spent on that, I could save and buy a pizza every month, thus perpetuating my uniformly unnoticeable, blazing red facial attire.

Thankfully this crisis in my life has all but vanished, minus a few that pop up here and there, but after growing up hating myself for so long, I tend to give up giving a damn about what people think of my spots, or my weight, my clothes, my attitude or me being alive.

The rare bowel crisis hasn’t gone away, and never will, I’d bet. Let me explain.

The closer I get to a bathroom, or the more aware I become that I am approaching one, the more desperate I am to release that which is waiting within me. If the toilet is public, and closed, it quite easily holds off for an indefinite period. But if I approach and a bathroom is merely busy, that person could finish at any moment, so my brain doesn’t allow my body to revert to safety mode. I’ve tested this and I’ve tried to make myself believe genuinely that a toilet is miles away even though I’m just 2 locked doors away. Doesn’t work. My subconscious is far more powerful. I remember when waiting as a teenager, I’d lie down and hope gravity worked its wonders. It didn’t.

Why not? That trick works with a blocked nose, albeit slowly. Stand on your head, or lie in bed in a way that your head is upside down, gravity will clear your nose reliably, providing you’re willing to be there a frustratingly long time, and possibly pass out, fall over and get a blocked nose again for when you wake up. But the theory works in practice. It never did for my bowels. At best, it went away in intervals of 20 seconds and came back in stronger waves of desperation, almost as if it was backing up to take a run up.

Why is that? Why do I have to suffer so much when my body is quite clearly capable of avoiding it?

That’s all I actually have to say on the matter

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