Ever shit your pants?

Not diapers but pants/dress/skirt or whatever.

Sorry but these are the things that I need to know. I hate being alone in these kinds of matters. I figure that if I speak up now maybe others too scarred by their own experience might come forward and join me in the hall of shame therefore letting the healing begin.

Here is the whole sordid story.
I went to Taco Mayo yesterday ( a local mexican fast food chain.) I had myself a couple of tacos and a taco burger. I was downtown about an hour and a half later doing some shopping when the number two urge hit. It was mild at first and I thought, “Mmmmm better seek out a good bathroom.” But as the urge itself became more urgent, I casually reflected, “You know, there is no place like your own bathroom to take a shit in.” So I headed for home, which is only about 10 minutes away.

As I drove, the urge suddenly took on a violent and ugly mood. At first it was only a couple of cramps but then it began to feel as if I didn’t make a doody right then, I would blow the back of my jeans out. A few seconds went by and it suddenly felt as if the entire weight of the universe was resting in my lower bowel. As a thin bead of sweat broke out across my forehead, I had a horrible thought, What if I didn’t make it!.. But is that possible?.. Certainly not! Normal healthy people don’t shit their pants! But as I pulled in behind the New Yorker being driven by a purple haired old lady doing 20 mpg I realized that the worst was going to happen. I knew then that I would soon be elgible to stand around campfires years later and admit to my fellow campers and yes maybe even to the folks on the SDMB that I had indeed at one time, shit in my 501s.

With all hope now abandoned I managed to make it to my house. I careened into the driveway and hit the ground running but it was already too late. By the time I got to the bathroom there was a small but awful package in my whitie tighties.

Totally disgusted with revulsion mixed in shame, I finished the job on the commode and climbed into a hot shower. As I scubbed away, my gut still aching, I thought, How could something like this happen? Had I inadvertantly angered the great god of feces. Was I being punished for some reason for all the years of relaxation while laying the proverbial cable? I finished my shower, cracked open a fresh bottle of pepto bismo and suddenly had a relieving epiphany mixed with an approaching anger… It wasn’t my fault after all! I was not becoming incontinent and I had no need to be ashamed! The blame for the entire horrible episode belonged at the feet of only one entity…

Taco Mayo. ( Bastards)

I have no one to blame but myself
I have no one to blame but myself
I have no one to blame but myself

Why did I open this thread?
I have no one to blame but myself

Ha! You should have done what I did FCM and skip what Aha wrote and scrolled down to see if you, FCM had ever had an unfortunate accident. :smiley:

Ever notice that once the urge starts, the intensity of the urge varies to the inverse proportion of your distance to an acceptable commode?

I like to have breakfast on the weekends at a place called Shakers here in Pasadena. Their coffee is good, but for some reason, it acts as a laxative on me. Most other coffees dont, but some specific blends, they do. And Shakers serves the latter.

So I’m driving home from breakfast one Sunday morning, and the urge to defecate became suddenly undeniable. Before I could even make it to a McDonalds, 2 blocks away, I had generously decorated the inseam of my favorite light beige drawstring pants… and it wasn’t a nice solid mistake, either, it was a mess.

And of course, I was going commando that morning… Thankfully, the McDonalds had a side door that was within a few feet of the commode, and I was lucky that it wasn’t occupied.

No. Why would I shit my pants? I’m a grown up, I hold it in. DUDE, you shit your pants?!?!?!?! :smiley:


When I was being toilet trained, I was scared of the toilet, so I’d hide behind the couch and shit my pants. That’s right, we all do it sometime.

Surely… I mean… Damn, boy! Don’t believe I’da told dat!

But since you asked, I have come close once or twice. The last one was a subject posted here called, I think, “Serendipity or Synchronicity?”. Anyways, it had to do with the fact that I had to go really bad, but was in my car, and what should magically appear but a service station.

But so far, I can say (with some pride) that I have never carried a load. :stuck_out_tongue:


My apologies to aha! It seems I became caught up in the humor of this unfortunate situation, and did not spend enough time understanding what happened. I apologize to you from the bottom of my heart, aha. It was not funny and I am ashamed of myself. Please forgive.



I just waited for 5 minutes for the reply window to open so I could tell you that I have, indeed, shit my pants.

I was at work a couple of years ago, and I was taking a “walk” break outside. That means I had wicked stomach cramps and needed to pass some gas, and was sparing my cellmates the stench. So I’m outside, strolling around, when suddenly, it happens. I think to myself, “self, are farts squidgy?” Then, I literally made this face:
followed by:
which turned into:

I hightailed it into the ladies room, cleaned up, realized it was just my underwear that were ruined (thank God), took 'em off, wrapped 'em up, and threw them in the garbage. I then left for the day and laughed all the way home over it out of embarassment and disbelief.

I am so mortified at that story that if I actually tell it out loud, I laugh so hard I cry and usually cannot finish the tale.


Zette…good for you. Now that you have shared it with us don’t you feel better? Nothing to be ashamed of. If the truth be known I bet we have a president that has shit his pants before.

I would guess that Clinton did when he found out about the stained dress.

I don’t feel much better, but I didn’t feel too awful bad, really. Since I have the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy, I now find it very funny and just laugh at it all. I guess It’s a good damned thing I’m already married. Who the heck would have me now??


PS- knowing full well that this happened to me, and also that I had an…overflow…problem at work once, my husband gleefully calls me “poopy-pants”. Is that true love or what?

Zette tell your husband that I heard that Liz Taylor shit her pants one time. Sorry I don’t have a link for that.

Liz Taylor?

Okay, this is something I’ve only told Mr. Rilch, and that once.

I was about 7, I think. I was leaving an amusement park with my parents. My stomach was horribly cramped up, but I thought it was just gas, which happened a lot, and normally eased up with time.

In retrospect, I shouldn’t have had that orange drink just before we left the park.

My mom did notice me holding my tummy and saying “ow ow ow”, but when she asked, I gasped that I would be okay.

We had just gotten on the highway when suddenly it felt like an iron hand had seized my guts. Gears started turning and there was nothing I could do about it.

My mom, from the front seat, said, “[snif snif] Rilchy, did you—” and then she saw my face.

OH GOD!!!” my dad roared, instantly in a rage. We rolled all the windows down and sped along the highway. He was ranting the whole way, I was crying, my mom said nothing. I’m not sure exactly why he was so angry, but when I was able to talk again, I tearfully yelled, “Well, it’s all over!” hoping he’d let me alone in my humiliation.

“All over your fanny!” he brayed. Pulling off the road to a service station, he ordered my mom, “Take her in there!”

No kidding, he was furious, as if I’d done something unforgivable like breaking an heirloom or getting arrested.

My mom cleaned me up as best she could, with only one remark: “He expects perfection from everyone except himself.”

I’ll never understand him. That is easily one of the worst situations for a kid to be in. Peeing in your pants is bad enough, but it happens to just enough of a percentage of people that it is possible to recover, knowing that you’re not the only one. This, on the other hand, was the ultimate in humiliation: not being able to control my own bodily functions, and getting berated for something that I was already blaming myself for. Especially at that age: early grade school kids take great pride in continence, since it’s one of the few absolute ways to distinguish themselves from the real little kids.

Well, it’s never happened since. Once, I was in the terrifying position of watching Mr. Rilch come within a heartbeat of having it happen to him when we were driving through the South. He found a service station not a moment too soon, and later told me that if they’d said no, he would have either charged in or just dropped his pants in front of the register. Either way, I would never have said a word.

Well, I’ve never done it but this guy has. Funniest thing I’ve ever been linked to on this board.

Aw man, the vB code messed up on that. It opens in new window but doesn’t go to the site.

Rather than try that again, how about this.


All right, ya bunch of wusses. I’ll admit it. Yes, I shit my pants. And not as a kid, either. I was in the army stationed at Fort Irwin, which is in the middle of the desert near Barstow, CA. I’d pulled guard duty all night and was driving home in the morning (I lived in Barstow, which was about a 45-minute drive)when the urge hit me. I was just past the gates, heading out on the two-lane road that runs from base to town. I figured I’d hold it in 'til I got home rather than drive back to the nearest toilet (about a 10-minute drive - this was the middle of nowhere). Unfortunately, as with aha, the urge got progressively more violent, until I was frantically expanding and contracting my sphincter muscle and moaning loudly in an effort at relief. Normally I would’ve pulled over and dumped it by the side of the road, but there was nothing but desert on either side of me - nowhere to hide - and all the Army personnel who lived off-post were driving in on their way to work. After having somehow made the drive all the way home while making facial contortions like Jim Carrey on a crack binge, I pulled into my parking space and bolted for the door, only to stop dead in my tracks as the big hairy shit exploded out of my ass and dripped down my pants and onto the sidewalk, so that I left a trail of evidence leading straight to the door of my apartment. Not too many neighbors dropping by to ask for a cup of sugar after that.
On a related note, once when I was stationed in Alabama I went out to a club (the only “alternative” club in Huntsville) with a friend of mine, Chris. We met some women and danced and got drunk, and after one too many Mind Erasers I felt the need to vomit. I went into the restroom and puked, then discovered that I had to take a crap (diarrhea would be more accurate), so I turned over and took care of business from the other end, then puked again, turned around, etc., until finally I was so far gone I just sat there with my face buried in the toilet bowl, my pants around my ankles, a thin trickle of poo dripping down my ass crack. Well, Chris came in to look for me, climbed over the top of the stall, saw me, and said “Jesus Christ, John, you’re pathetic!” He then proceeded to bring the girls we met in to show them, as well as half the guys in the club and anybody from our unit who was present. All I could do was weakly protest, “Chris, get out…” while he loudly berated me with “Get up, you drunk!” and “Look at him! Have you ever seen anything so pathetic?” Ah, such compassionate friends I’ve had. I’m truly blessed.
Sweet Christ, I hated the Army.

Soupr, I’ve seen that many times before over the last few years. No offense, but I’ve never been convinced of its authenticity.



sigh …ok… you see… I’m just bitter. I had a horrible experience that scarred my youth.

In gradeschool, 3rd or 4th grade I believe. I got sick. Flu sick. I felt it coming but the teacher was talking and I couldnt ask to go to the bathroom. I shit diarreha my pants and ran to the bathroom. I didnt know what to do at such a young age so I cleaned myself up best I could and went back to class for the rest of the day!! :eek: I stank. The class bully found out I shit my pants and the rest of the year was hell. HELL I TELL YOU!!!

Thanks for the memories AHA!! THANKS A LOT!!! …bastard… :frowning:

[sub]where’s a clock tower and rifle when you need one?!?![/sub]

Let me set the stage. Well, first trip in 1985 to Tibet, in winter. Just spent a month travelling by bus in some really inhospitable places. Almost nothing to eat. Just spent two days hiking from one province to another to get away from the police. Ended up in a frickin metropolis of a town with maybe 4,000 people. Ate my first big meal in a month and then puked it up about 20 minutes later. That night, sleeping on the third floor of a guesthouse hovel, there is snow on the ground, it is maybe 20 degrees out, most amazing stars you ever say, and the communal and very public outhouse (with live pigs rooting around underneath) was about 50 yards away from the guesthouse. Oh yea, it had been about 3 weeks since the toilet paper ran out and all that was left was notebook scraps. And, because these were squatters, some of the previous squatees had missed and left the evidence just lying there. Since it hadn’t been above freezing for a few months, you can just imagine.

I wake up with abdominal pains and the urge to cut loose REALLY bad. I get up, put on boots, pull on some clothes, walk down the hall, down 3 flights of stairs, outside in through the snow 50 years, into the outhouse, drop the pants, squat down, freeze my ass and nards off, and let rip with a really really really giant fart. That was it. Whew, just some gas. So, pull up my pants, and back to bed. 5 minutes later, oh man, I gotta go, . I get up, put on boots, pull on some clothes, walk down the hall, down 3 flights of stairs, outside in through the snow 50 years, into the outhouse, drop the pants, squat down, freeze my ass and nards off, and let rip with another fart of epic proportions.

Repeat this process about 5 times. Time six, I’m lying in my not quite bitterly cold bed thinking, I can do a one cheek sneak. And I did. Time seven, great its just gas. About the tenth time, HELLO, I think there’s a problem. And I had to I get up, put on boots, pull on some clothes, walk down the hall, down 3 flights of stairs, outside in through the snow 50 years, into the outhouse, drop the pants, squat down, freeze my ass and nards off, and let fly at the pigs down below. I then carefully had to take off one pant leg, foot back in the boot, take off the other pant let, foot back in the boot, freezing my entire bottom half off. Peeled the boxers and thermal underwear away from the pants, wipe with same, throw at the pigs. Put the pants back on, with a tiny brown stain, and go back to bed. I was hating life, lemme tell ya.