Having to poop at an inopportune time is one of the worst journeys you can Embarq on in this drug we all call life. Your stomach and ass make obtuse noises, bubbles gurgle like frogs croaking in the pond and at any moment your butthole could erupt like Pompeii. It is just a shitty situation. Whether you’re in class, stuck in a client meeting or on an airplane… pooping really isn’t an option. Your brain is telling you NO, but your butt is telling you YES! I thought I had experienced it all in terms of holding in a ferocious growler… boy was I wrong. I decided to join a spin class this past week, get fit, ripped and a grip on my life. I waltzed into the 6 am class ready to conquer this mountainous Wednesday that loomed ahead. However, because my life is an ongoing joke, my body decided to play a sick one on me. The second I sat on that bike seat which is evidently made of fire forged quartz, my butt began to sing a melody. Not a Mozart tune, nay, I’m talking Slip Knot death metal screams. My body had one thing on it’s mind- destroy any toilet in sight. I NEEDED A TOILET AND NEEDED ONE ASAP.
Yet, Here I am packed in like a passenger on the Mayflower at 6:04 a.m. spinning my f***ng life away. If you’ve ever been in a spin class before… you know leaving the room is just not an option. One does not simply just get off the bike and leave class. No, you would feel the wrath of the instructor and the judgmental eyes from all the serpents surrounding you. You either pedal until the class is over or you fricking pass out. While most the people surrounding me are focusing on their form, sculpted bodies and breathing exercises… I’m practicing breathing apparatuses for my butt to ensure human centipede 4 doesn’t transpire in the peak of soul cycle.
“Breathe Ass, Breathe!”
I internally scream to myself
“To the beat! Stay in front of the beat!”
my instructor screams.
Trying to keep a beat to Avecie’s “Level’s” remix #5 is a little hard Sharron when I’m homed in on not starting the next corona virus in your cycle class. Spin on its own is a life draining event but having to hold in a poop for 50 minutes while your ass is bouncing up and down on a bike seat is like a mission impossible sequel no one asked for.
In the end, I didn’t poop myself which I feel I deserve something as tribute. Maybe not a holiday named after me but some sort of medal or ribbon. Moral of the story, ensure you use the facilities before any strenuous activity. Better yet, just skip the workout to avoid this.