Taken from the perspective of my live in boyfriend- who doesn't understand women at all!
She is a poop Nazi. She has dehumanized herself- it is amazing. Never does she defecate, or drop a load, or take the kids to the pool, or pinch a loaf. When the door closes, that woman s***s rainbows.
Me, on the other hand, yeah- no rainbows here. I'll be in the middle of squeezing out a vein throbbing, crowd-worthy floater (not that I want the audience- I'm not sick man, but really, some of the things that come out of my backside should have a blue ribbon attached) and in she barges, looking for nail polish the exact shade of the Incredible Hulk. Or she needs to pluck her eyebrows. She'll just sit there in front of the mirror, tweezing and plucking away... while I strain and sit there helpless trying to be dainty while doing the inhumane thing of emptying my wretched bowels. Now if I were to pull a stunt like that- you know deciding to shave or something while she makes glitter and rose petals- I would be verbally whipped harder than Devo.
Her face turns red. She sputters. Horns begin to sprout. This is not allowed. I am not permitted to know of the dirty and perfectly natural things her and the rest of the human race must do as a side effect of consuming meals.
I'm not some feces loving perv. I don't someone to drop a steaming log on my chest and then rub it all over my face. I hear some people really enjoy that, and more power to you. Not my thing. I just thought that the rules may apply to both people, and not just one. Why is my little haven invaded while I am fighting Sgt. Poo, and yet if she's pushing out perfume-scented flowers and confetti, and perhaps a unicorn (hell I don't know- I'm not allowed in there), I am shooed away like the goddamn plaque?
It makes me feel like a poop-infested freak show. It makes her seem like a doo-doo weirdo. I mean she can let loose a hardy stream of pee, no worries- what's the problem?
Besides, she tells me that all girl poo actually does smell like roses and lavender gardens, and truly looks like rainbows, which I think would a mind boggling sight.
this reminds me of when i was in the pin and all the b*****s in the tank would yell at me for taken a s**t... can't remember any of them actually taking a dump during my stay... SAD!!!
I am Emily- though I'm not yet sure what that means. I am 26. I graduated from UC Santa Barbara in 2004, from a wonderful program called the College of Creative Studies, with a degree in honor's Lit. .. more..