Ever shit your pants?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
141

Been there, done that, would have the tee-shirt but it got soiled, too. The worst case of the demolition-shits I ever got started on a scenic drive halfway between Marysville/Yuba City and Grass Valley/Nevada City. Foolishly, Upon reaching Grass Valley/Nevada City I figured I could hold it in until I got to Auburn on highway 49.

Note to self: In future, at the first sign of internal distress, zero in on and use the nearest bathroom, acceptable or not. Seat covers and clothing are expensive. Dignity is cheap.

142

I damn you all to hell.

This morning, for the first time in DECADES, I full-on shat my drawers. No, I am not joking. I blame each and evey one of you.

Joe

143

Oh god, most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me and if someone brings up most embarrassing moments I will lie about it. Yes.

I was 10ish and riding the school bus to my babysitter’s house. I notice early on that I needed to go badly. Unfortunately, I had at least half an hour left in the ride. I tried valiantly to wait, despite stomach pains but it just didn’t work. And then I had to sit in it.

I was mortified and tried to clean myself up in the sitter’s bathroom so no one would know, but the toilet clogged.

144

I came so close once that the memory still haunts me. I went to Cancun for a week years ago and came down with Montezuma’s Revenge almost immediately. One afternoon I was waiting at a bus stop and felt the (now familiar) gut wrench that told me unstoppable diarrhea was in my very near future. The bus was just pulling up, but I knew it had about 4 stops left before reaching my hotel.

What a fateful decision to make. The odds were good I wouldn’t make it to the hotel if I got on the bus, but I would certainly crap myself in public if I attempted to walk. I rolled the dice, and got on the bus. It was crowded, of course, and I had to stand.

As the bus seemingly inched toward my hotel, I was in a state of eyes-crossed, butt-clenched crisis. Between each stop I resolved to get off at the next stop so I wouldn’t foul myself in close quarters with the other riders. At each stop I decided I would try for one more.

Not only did I make it to the last stop, I even made it to my room. I don’t know how, because there were moments during the ride when I was certain that I was less than 20 seconds away from a catastrophic outcome.

145

You know, normal 56 years olds don’t go around shitting and peeing themselves.

146

Me, too… :smack:

147

I have to tell you a story about a co-worker. She told everyone at our place of work about this incident (idiot!). She had to do an outreach one morning at an elementary school to tell them about a summer reading program at our local library. She got nervous about having to talk to the kids and on the way into the school parking lot, she shit herself.

Well, instead of calling the school and claiming an emergency and bowing out of the scheduled talk, she goes into the school and into the office. She then asks if she can use the bathroom. Someone leads her to the employee bathroom. She goes in and takes her pants off and is standing at the sink with her bare ass hanging out rinsing out her undies when in walks a teacher. The teacher immediately says “Excuse me”, and exits the bathroom.

Co-worker puts clothes back on and goes on with the talk to the kids.

God, I can’t even imagine how anyone could be so freaking stupid, not to mention that she came back to work and proceeded to tell every single one of us her shameful story.
Some people have no shame.

148

I’ve shit my pants plenty of times…

My fraternity hosted farting contests during parties. They are pretty well attended lol. I love to fart, so I like to compete in them. In this contest, I was doing incredible, easily I was going to come in first. After each fart I got cheers, laughs and applause from the crowd. After about an hour and a half the contest was winding down, and I knew I had it in the bag. I feel a strong gurgling in my nethers and I knew this one would be the fart to win me the contest. It is important to note that I am very drunk also…

I get on all fours in my undies and I push with all of my might. But this fart (which was amazing) was blocked a huge turd, which now formed a huge bulge in my tighty whities. I have shit myself from farting plenty of times before…it’s part of the sport! But this was no shart, and no hershey squirt. I had just dropped a huge deuce in my pants. The crowd went silent, and jaws dropped. My gut reaction was “F***! that was such a good fart too!” Then they erupted in laughter and some were disgusted lol. Usually a couple of guys sh*t their pants during these contests, but nothing of this magnitude, so close to winning!

I was disqualified. Disappointed in a drunked stupor, I grabbed my shorts and waddled home without even thinking to change before I left. That was the longest 4 blocks I had ever walked! I am sure people noticed the huge turd in my pants, but I knew I just had to get home waddling one cheek at a time!

The funniest part was as I am waddling home, I walked past these two guys and one of them looks at the other and yells “did you f*cking fart?”

149

Yes. Also known as The Day Mom Bought a Juicer, or The Day Everyone Shit Their Pants.

I also had a horrifying close call back in the days when I ran a register at a drug store. They were having a special on sugar-free chocolates, and I was unaware of the side effects until I damn near had a special myself. I had to call someone else to run the register so I could go use the restroom, then I had to clock out and go on home because the situation remained extremely unstable.

150

That cracks me up, DungB. To answer the OP, yeah, I did it once or maybe twice when I was younger and more effusive and voluble, but unfortunately not more volatile. Linen pants, ecru, walking around a park with my wife or whatever that woman was if she was even a female or a human.

Oh yeah, when I started taking fibrous intake seriously about four or five years ago, I was always running off trail to “make stool” – sometimes didn’t make it. We’re talking 5 or 6 shits a day. Nylon shorts can be very unforgiving. Always carry a handkerchief, and learn the understory of the forest well. Gelled alcohol was a constant companion. Good to have clean hands.

Never did one of those 'Trainspotting" things, though – I always used to piss myself, though, if it makes you all feel better. It was good for me, too.

151

One weekend morning in the first flush of our new relationship, I awoke before my honey and crept out of bed. I went and had a shower and put on clean boxers. It was a sunny summer’s morning and the sun was streaming in through the curtains, alighting on her face and illuminating her halo of sumptuous red hair. As the sunlight kissed her eyes, she slowly awoke. “Good morning,” she said, smiling blearily.

“GOOD MORNING!” I beamed at her. “What a beautiful day!”

I was squeaky clean but contemplating that I would be prepared to compromise that state for a bit of the old hows-yer-father. I approached the bed with a stirring of anticipation, posing in a manner that I knew would be amusing to her but perhaps not entirely unalluring (I had a great body in those days).

I danced about a bit, and since we were a few weeks in and not worried about that sort of thing in front of each other, let out a cheeky little musical fart.

I froze, one leg cocked.

Attached to the end of the fart was a nugget of poo.

With my leg raised, mid prance, the nugget wasn’t contained by the leg of the boxers, but, propelled by compressed gas, instead shot straight down out of the boxers and bounced off my ankle, onto the bed.

My love watched this development with an expression of startled confusion. She then slowly drew the blanket up to her face, staring at the poo.

I wailed “I just had a shower and put on clean boxers! Now I have to have another shower!” and waddled back off to the bathroom clutching my ass.

I did return a few minutes later with some toilet roll to clean up the mess. She was in exactly the same pose as she’d been when I’d left her, blanket clutched to her face, gazing in horror at the rogue nugget.

152

The sheen is now officially off my doper crush on jjimm…

153

Well the sheen clearly worked for her: we were together for seven years after that.

The sheen of my nugget, that is.

154

Had my gallbladder out in the winter of 2010. As the guts adjusted, there were a few very close calls (hence my reference to “clench-cheeked run-waddle” in subsequent gallbladder-related threads).

Had a colonoscopy last summer. While doing the prep the evening before, there was the time I’d accidentally left the toilet lid down… the delay proved to be unfortunate. I don’t know if that one counts really, since explosive poo is EXPECTED in such a situation.

Then (and oh god, if Typo Knig happens to do a search on my name, the bloom will officially be OFF our relationship because I did NOT tell him this at the time)… we were in Disney Land with the kids, finishing up some shopping before hitting the road to San Diego. In this huge gift shop. I felt the urge to pass gas, did so, then had that awful moment of dawning horror.

Thank goodness there was a bathroom very nearby. Typo kept shopping with the kids while I said “gotta run”, and went in and did damage control. I got the mess cleaned up - undies were a disaster, outer clothes were OK. I stayed in there for a bit while I tried to decide if the danger had, erm, passed. I washed the underwear in the sink and wiped everything around it thoroughly, then tried to decide whether to go commando… or put on clammy, damp, stained (but stink-free) skivvies. As I was wearing a jumper (for non-US Dopers, this is the dress + shirt thing, not a sweater), I had a horrifying image of Disaster hitting and leaving a steaming pile as we walked around… so on with the soggy pants.

155

I was at a court-ordered parenting class following my divorce. I felt fine when we started, but about half way through the class I started sweating. My kids were both at home with the flu, so I figured I was probably coming down with the same thing. But this class is mandatory, so I can make it till the end right? Wrong.

There was about 15 minutes left when I stood up and said “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. I have to leave.” I didn’t wait for the instructor to respond, I just fast-walked out the door. For a second, I thought maybe I could make it out to my car and get home, but my guts had other plans. I ran into the bathroom that was right off the lobby, and started puking into the toilet. To my horror, I filled my pants at the same time.

After cleaning up as best I could in the bathroom, I tried sneaking out of the building since I’m sure everyone heard what happened in there. The receptionist gave me a concerned, yet disgusted look and opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off. “Sorry, bye.” I put a towel down on my front seat (thanks to my kids always leaving stuff in the car!) and drove home. When I got there, my oldest noticed what had happened and so began the “Mommy pooped her pants!” chanting. I took a shower and went to bed. I can’t remember ever being that sick.

156

I have three stories to share, all recent.

So I was trying to prove a point to my husband - god that word feels weird, we’ve been married two days - by moving a really heavy thing across a room. And I mean reaaaaallllly heavy. After about five minutes I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. Not only that, but it was halfway out. I was hoping it wasn’t noticeable, and I was only wearing underwear and a t-shirt. So, anyway, I kept pushing this object, trying to get it to move, and the thing that was half out was just staying there until when the object was FINALLY almost to where I was trying to get it, and I just gave it this huge shove and with that huge shove
Boom.
It shot out into my pants, and my husband (boyfriend at the time) didn’t say anything. I paused and was kinda like :confused: that for a minute, but then I just ignored and finished moving the thing and when I was done, left to go clean up.

The other time was actually before this, but it’s sort of a blurry memory. It was early June of last year, when me and my husband weren’t even together. We were just friends with benefits. We had been since like two weeks after we met…but anyway. We were with three other friends having a holiday in Ibiza and the place we were staying gave free drinks all day and free cocktails from 7-11 at night and that was like JACKPOT!!!
My husband wasn’t drinking though because he hates alcohol (the taste) but me and the other three were. I’m the youngest by ten years out of the group, and I haven’t really got that much experience with drinking, I’ve only been doing it since I was 18 (since I’m a good lil’ kitty and follow laws) so I started to feel HORRIBLE after about two hours of drinking these things, so I decided to go to bed. Idk how long it took for him to follow me to make sure I was okay or whatever, but by the time he’d got there I’d changed into night things and was just closing up the balcony door or something, when I felt like I was gonna puke.
I ran across the room, across the hall and basically skidding to a stop in front of the toilet and was throwing up into it. He sat on the bidet and he was rubbing my back and whispering that I’d be okay and other stuff I couldn’t hear, but then it got worse. As I heaved I couldn’t control it and all this semi-solid stuff came shooting out the other end every time I heaved and I couldn’t stop it. So I started crying. And when I was done puking, I was still crying, and I was expecting to loose a friend because all that was so gross, but instead

157

I have three stories to share, all recent.

So I was trying to prove a point to my husband - god that word feels weird, we’ve been married two days - by moving a really heavy thing across a room. And I mean reaaaaallllly heavy. After about five minutes I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom. Not only that, but it was halfway out. I was hoping it wasn’t noticeable, and I was only wearing underwear and a t-shirt. So, anyway, I kept pushing this object, trying to get it to move, and the thing that was half out was just staying there until when the object was FINALLY almost to where I was trying to get it, and I just gave it this huge shove and with that huge shove
Boom.
It shot out into my pants, and my husband (boyfriend at the time) didn’t say anything. I paused and was kinda like :confused: that for a minute, but then I just ignored and finished moving the thing and when I was done, left to go clean up.

The other time was actually before this, but it’s sort of a blurry memory. It was early June of last year, when me and my husband weren’t even together. We were just friends with benefits. We had been since like two weeks after we met…but anyway. We were with three other friends having a holiday in Ibiza and the place we were staying gave free drinks all day and free cocktails from 7-11 at night and that was like JACKPOT!!!
My husband wasn’t drinking though because he hates alcohol (the taste) but me and the other three were. I’m the youngest by ten years out of the group, and I haven’t really got that much experience with drinking, I’ve only been doing it since I was 18 (since I’m a good lil’ kitty and follow laws) so I started to feel HORRIBLE after about two hours of drinking these things, so I decided to go to bed. Idk how long it took for him to follow me to make sure I was okay or whatever, but by the time he’d got there I’d changed into night things and was just closing up the balcony door or something, when I felt like I was gonna puke.
I ran across the room, across the hall and basically skidding to a stop in front of the toilet and was throwing up into it. He sat on the bidet and he was rubbing my back and whispering that I’d be okay and other stuff I couldn’t hear, but then it got worse. As I heaved I couldn’t control it and all this semi-solid stuff came shooting out the other end every time I heaved and I couldn’t stop it. So I started crying. And when I was done puking, I was still crying, and I was expecting to loose a friend because all that was so gross, but instead (don’t remember how) he managed to make me stop crying, then he helped me clean up and I went to bed.

The third time is the most recent. Not even a week ago. So husband had two accidents that week and was hella embarrassed, but I was trying to tell him it was no big deal and he kept being mean to himself so I just thought “fuck it” and just DID it. I shit my pants on purpose to make him feel better. Meh.

158

The fart that wasn’t. :frowning:

159

Yes, about 20 years ago in Villamontes, in the Bolivian Chaco. I had some intestinal irregularity, and I went to pee, and when I released, I got more than I bargained for. I wasn’t even sick, but when traveling to places like that, your digestive system is sometimes unpredictable.

160

Hey, hey… I’ve had Bali Belly, and Delhi Belly, but by far the worst was Bad Belly Bolivia!

Intestinal irregularity indeed. Both ends. All night long.

By the time it eased up, slightly predawn, I was beyond dehydrated and out of bottled water. Made my way to the now seriously blocked hotel entrance. I could see a shop vending bottled water a block from where I stood. I almost cried. Then I just set about shaking the heavy metal door with all my might, till the teenaged night watchman appeared half asleep. I could only point and say ‘Agua’. I think he just thought I was insane.

It still gives me a shiver to think about it! ( I believe the culprit was a couple of tablespoons of unpasteurized milk!)