If you are a returnee that reads what I write hello again my masochist friend, if you are reading me for the first time, I apologize for what you are about to read. This weekend I was staying in an hotel and I prepared myself to conquer the last frontier: the toilet. During the week before leaving I used all of my will power and mental abilities to prepare myself for one thing only: leaving behind the biggest shit I have ever defecated in all my years of shitting. It wasn't a thing of being gross, it wasn't to make someone miserable nor to ruin someone's day. It was about pride, pride in my abilities to create, out of food, a testament to my week long gluttony. A trophy that would stand tall over the fake rules of etiquette and human behavior, that would show the universe that I, with my average lifestyle and my average diet, could create a natural wonder without even moving my hands. And I did it, I really did it.
It all began the Monday in which I learned that I was staying in an hotel. I realized I have made a lot of things in my life for which I have been acclaimed, respected, adored or congratulated. But no one, ever, has seen one of my turds and said anything beyond "oh". So on that day I decided to stop myself from shitting while still eating things normally. On Monday I ate like I normally would, eating homemade bread and homemade pasta with chicken and tomato sauce. Everything was normal, but it was only the first day.
Tuesday and Wednesday began with my body giving me the warning "dude, you are fucking full of shit" but I ignored those signals like a tired parent ignores his/her asshole kids. On Thursday, my body was tired of my rebellion. I woke up at night, sweating like a madman, stomach full of shit and afraid to even walk. My body knew it had me beat, and tried to force me to shit right there, but I couldn't betray my dreams of the biggest shit, so I begged, forced my asshole shut and breathed slowly and deeply. I could hear the chorus of angels, giving me strength to follow my dream. I wasn't only an idiot not shitting, I had a purpose. It wasn't something I could try some other time, it was my calling, my destiny to do it this week, and my body complied, leaving behind a condition: you will let it flow freely when it's time. I accepted.
On Friday I ate a little less since I wasn't even hungry. My body kept it's word and I didn't had to use too much willpower to keep it inside. I thought I was safe now and I could hold on until today easily. I was wrong. Saturday came by and I left for the hotel. On the road my stomach decided to betray our verbal contract forcing me to shit in the car, I had to concentrate on my dream in order to hold it back, but by the time we arrived on the hotel I could hardly walk. The shit was coming early, whether I wanted it or not. However my family wanted to go to the pool and asked me to join them, I eventually complied, still unsure if I was gonna shit all over the pool like that viral video. However, when I went in the pressure of the shitstorm subsided, I don't know if it was the cold, the difference in weight or the magical powers of water, pee and chlorine, but it calmed my desire and the new found knowledge made Sunday an easy day. On that night, in order to avoid any problem emptying myself I drank a lot of water and ate a breadfruit, which has a lot of fiber. I was on the last steps toward my hope and last desire.
So, today came, the contracted day of the prophecy. I woke up from the pressure at 5 am. I tried to stand but I was heavier than usual, so I had to roll out of bed. My belly was hard as iron but my body had decided to wait. I was free to walk on my own pace toward the toilet. It was my day, my body knew I had won and trying to force me now was useless. Today was the day, and the stars were aligned. I walked slowly toward the bathroom, my head held high with pride, my steps calm and true. Today was the day I couldn't be beat, I couldn't be stopped. The door of the bathroom opened with no resistance at all, and I could swear it bowed before me a little, the toilet was inviting, receiving my presence with the reverence of a god. I took off my pants completely, I knew they would get in the way, sat down and gave myself a small pat on my belly as a way of saying "it is time". Not even 10 seconds had pass when I felt the confirmation that the message was received. At first it felt like a tsunami, to the point that I felt almost enough fear to make me try to stop what was coming, but I calmed myself because today was my day. I let it loose, and like if it was floodgates opening, shit exploded out of me without stopping like the words of a politician that doesn't know the answer to an important question. At first hard, with the force of cannon fire hitting with righteous fury the water that dared to stop it, then soft, with the gentleness of thrown mud, sliding into the welcoming arms of the now soiled water, and lastly watery and interrupted by farts like thunder in a storm. I was tired, the whole thing lasted less than 10 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I could feel the emptiness left behind in the once occupied space, my legs were numb and I was sweating. I was freed from the burden I had chosen to carry for a week, and while I was too tired to check how it looked, I found the acceptance in the fact that at least I did my best.
After resting for some minutes I cleaned my ass from the residues of my creation and decided to stand up. I was still tired, and I even felt a little dizzy when I stood up, but after I looked back I saw my masterpiece confirming that my body didn't disappoint me. My shit stood tall over the water, like mountains that escaped from the sea, one of it peaks could be seen over the toilet rim. I was so proud I wanted to take pictures of it, but I stopped myself. It was my creation and spectacle. Something I did for myself to see. To show it to others would cheapen my achievement, and thus, still looking at it directly, I flushed it. To my surprise and pride, it didn't flushed completely in one time, nor in two. It took me three flushes for it to go down the tubes into oblivion. Leaving behind only the majestic memory burned in my brain about the time I shat enough shit to make it go above the bowl, and looking back at the uncomfortable times I can say, without doubt, that holding back my shit for a week was worth everything I experienced.
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