Poops, I crapped my pants.
I was thirteen years old. My mom was on a ladies' softball league, and they practiced in the evenings on a field at a school in the next town over. It is important to note that the school was pretty far away from the rest of the town (as in, too far to walk), which was unfortunate for me. How different things would have been had they practiced in a more urban area, or had I been but three years older and able to drive myself to the nearest 7-Eleven...
About halfway through their practice one of these summer nights, I suddenly had the urge. You know the one. The one where your bowels are all, "Get thee to a poopery!" One problem: No poopery to be found. I scouted the edges of the field, trying to find a bush or something and simultaneously trying not to think about it at all. No bushes. A couple of anorexic trees, definitely not big enough to hide anyone's biz-nass. As I became more desperate, I pondered the possibility of knocking on the door of one of the nearby-ish houses, but since my mom was busy and I was painfully shy, I knew that wasn't going to happen. Besides, what if they murdered me?
I clenched. Oh, how I clenched. But there comes a limit even to the strongest of sphincters, and mine had had enough of my restraint. The floodgates opened and all hell squished out. I'm not going to lie... that was maybe the best feeling I have ever experienced. There is something beautiful about the resignation and the letting go and the sense of relief that fills you when you finally give up the fight.
What was not so beautiful was the ride home. My mother, my three brothers and me, all packed into a tiny Mazda GLC. My mom, sniffing the air and demanding to know who stepped in dog poop. Me, taking that out and running with it to stop any further discussion. Me, suspending myself over the seat for the twenty-minute ride home, hoping no one would notice that my butt was not actually touching the seat. I didn't want that crap spreading any further than it already had, but also: a girl's gotta keep as much teasing fodder on the downlow in front of her brothers.
The worst part? Cleaning up. Preserve me from ever having to do that again. I don't think I even tried to salvage the underwear... I think I wrapped it in about a roll of toilet paper and crept stealthily to deposit the entire bundle in the outside garbage can.
