There won't be any pictures today, for reasons which will soon become obvious. Since coming off the road, I've been investing a lot of time and effort into trying to regulate my bowels. Living in a truck isn't exactly conducive to regularity, especially for a person such as myself, who suffers from "P.P.P." (Public Pooping Phobia for those of you who are not well versed in medical matters). I have never been able to easily do "number two" in public restrooms, I don't know why that is. I generally just hold it, or if I really have no choice, then I'll go into the furthest stall from the door, and try to wait till there is no one else in the bathroom. If there IS someone there, then I screw my eyes tightly shut, and put my fingers in my ears, so as not to hear the sounds of anyone moving around. This is really about the only way I can perform.
So you can easily imagine that living in the truck with Mr. Trucker, where the only bathrooms available to us are public restrooms, was not exactly conducive to keeping regular with any consistency. In fact, I would often go a week or longer without, ahem, pooping. This would generally lead to a "moment" when I would suddenly feel such a strong urge to go that I knew I didn't have much time. This always seemed to occur when we were driving, and poor Mr. Trucker would be stuck trying to find the closest available rest area or truckstop where he could pull off and drop me at the door so I could run in and use the restroom.
These conditions led to what I will call "the unfortunate incident". This happened the week before I left the road for good, but was not the sole reason for me deciding not to ride with Mr. Trucker any longer. Anyway, what happened was that I had one of my urges, and Mr. Trucker couldn't get to a stopping place in time, and I literally "crapped my pants". There it is, it's out in the open now. I feel much better for having confessed this to you, my readers.
Now that I'm living with Mr. Trucker's parents, I thought my bowel habits would just straighten themselves right out, but unfortunately that hasn't been the case. I envy those people who are able to just go, as regular as clockwork, every day at the same time. That would not be me. So I bought a container of Metamucil and started having some, in a glass of water, twice a day. Even this is not causing daily regularity, although it is slightly improved.
So that is today's topic, folks, and I know that my daughters will be mortified when (if) they read it. But I've gotten into the habit of being "real" on this blog, and I'm not about to change now.