My family members tell me that when I was little I liked to hide while releasing excrement. Curtains and closets were my choice victims. Strangely enough some of my earliest childhood memories involve doing my duties. First memory was me running around in our living room in a diaper and I had to use the restroom and although I had a diaper on, like a lady I ran to the bathroom and shut the door. I looked at myself in the mirror and the chills began. I even remember someone barging in on me and me slamming the door on them.
My most fondest early toilet memory is of me lying on my Titi Sara's kitchen floor, her sweeping and me asking to be changed. I must have been asking like a brat because the next thing I knew my older cousin picked me up, took my diaper off and sat me on the toilet with the seat up and left me there. I vaguely remember her in my face muttering something about I need to start using the toilet and then storming off. Lazy bitch.
Then there was the time we moved to Puerto Rico I must have been 4 or so. I was on the plane and I had to go really bad so I went to the bathroom. I guess I was in there for a long time because when I walked out there was a line of people waiting to go and they applauded as I walked out. It was my first standing ovation hopefully not my last.
Point is I like to take my time. I need to be relaxed. I need to be alone. I need a book or a cell phone. I need air freshener. I need to know that no one is waiting for me to finish. I need to not hear my kids crying or fighting and the doorbell can not ring. But life being what it is, unpredictable and relentless, constantly defies my rules and in which case I plug my ears and close my eyes.
The bathroom situation at work is a horrendous one for a person with my needs. We have 2 stalls side by side. That's it. Anyone can walk in at any given time and disturb the flow of things. They don't know my fears and insecurities. At least at the movie theater's I can go to the far end stall and wait for everyone to leave so they don't see it's me. There have been times when I have let all the girls here know to not go in while I'm there and not just cause of the wonderful odor that I leave behind but also because of my 'special needs'. The only solace I have when nature calls another poor unfortunate soul to the throne at the same time as me is the small chance they don't know what shoes I am wearing and therefore can't identify the culprit. I can only hope. Other times I have lifted my feet up completely as if they hadn't noticed the only other stall door in that God forsaken bathroom was closed.
Everyone knows that in a company with 8 women and only 1 bathroom the chances of someone coming in the same time as you are highly likely. When these unfair circumstances arise, I automatically freeze all natural flows, pray to God nothing slips, hold my breath hoping they are holding theirs too while quietly wishing and missing the much less frightening times when I could crap in hiding.
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