Your Burdens I Will Bear


When I was a kid, my babysitter lived way out in the country.

Well, it seemed that far. But really it was only like a block from town.

I remember once I was playing outside. Somehow I was all by myself. I remember it was a cool day, but not really that cold. Not really even cold enough for a coat, but I had this awesome coat. I can't even remember what it looked like, really. I remember it being a violet-ish mauve-ish color and having a lot of ribbed knit. But I remember I loved it.

It's not the coat I was wearing in the above picture. But that coat is also awesome. I wasn't even the same age as in that picture. No. I was older.

I must have at least been in first grade. I was wearing my beloved suede ankle boots. I got those for my birthday in first grade.

I was running around, probably playing some fantasy game as I did in those days. I felt an urge. The kind of urge that says "Hey! Something wants out down here!"

I was certain it was just gas. So I pushed it out.

And ended up pooping myself.

I was mortified. But do you think I went in and said anything?

Oh no. I just stood around outside in my poop and waited for my mom to come pick me up.

I don't know if my mom ever knew. I don't remember if I tried to clean the clothes up myself or what. I can't remember those details. But I remember the bare trees, the crisp air and the total embarrassment.

Apparently, shart stories like these aren't all that rare. In fact, most of the poop stories shared with me over the last couple of weeks have been all about the shart.

Apparently, it's more embarrassing the older you get. Especially if you're only halfway through a party you can't leave and you're wearing light colored clothes.

So next time you're at an event and you see a person with light colored pants standing against the wall all night, give them a pat on the back. Let him know he's not alone!

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