As Harper Lee once said, “You never really know a person, until they’ve told you the story of the time they pooed their pants in public.”
Technically that’s not what Lee said, but it’s certainly what she meant.
Sh*tting one’s pants is the ultimate war story, passed down from generation to generation, with details of sounds, smells and facial expressions imperative to the narrative.
I collected my three favourite pooping pants stories as a gift to women everywhere. Even though we know exactly how each will end, we can’t help but wonder: How? When? Where? And most importantly, what can I do to ensure I don’t poo my pants while wearing active wear at the airport?
1. “We’d been dating for a month, and there I was with poo running down my legs.” – Lauren
“I was 22 and had met my new boyfriend, Mark, through a mutual friend. I had fallen so hard for him and was really desperate to impress him.
About a month in, we decided to go to a music festival together and stay in his van which had a mattress in the back.
The first night was great, even though I probably drank too much. When I woke up the next morning I thought I had a dreadful hangover and felt extremely nauseous. I tried to get up to go to the bathroom, and passed out before I even stood up.
I realised this definitely was not a bad hangover. It was food poisoning. And then it began.
I vomited out the back of the car, at which point he woke up, having no idea what to do.
But then… it happened.