Beauty Tips
The One Thing You Should Do Before You PoopPooping in public is one of womankind's greatest fears. Here's how to get over it -- fast |
Poo-Pourri Test No. 3: The Workplace No one wants to be the girl who stinks up the company can. You know, the girl who sits silently in her stall for half an hour as rotations of women effortlessly relieve themselves around her, a veritable dragon brewing in her bowels, begging to be unleashed. When will they leave me alone?? she wonders in agony, waiting for a moment of peace to detonate. Pooping in a bathroom with stalls is such a different game.
Horrifyingly, the moment nature called for me to head to the office latrine was the very moment it called half the Total Beauty staff, too. Shit, I thought for every reason. I hid the Poo-Pourri between the pages of a notebook as I tried to play it cool on the walk down the hall.
Surrounded by discerning colleagues, I nabbed the first stall and spritzed thrice, before realizing that in this communal environment, the problem would be less the smell and more ... well, the sound. Sure, my stall might not smell like poo, but it sure would sound like it.
So, I did what any self-preserving office pooper would do: I coordinated my mind with my sphincter and timed to tap the flush right as turd hit water. Three, two, one: Success. No smell, no plop, no evidence. I smiled at a coworker in the mirror as we washed our hands side by side, smugly satisfied with my little secret. Me and the Poo-Pourri really were a team.
SEE NEXT PAGE: The Poo-Pourri Conclusion: Poop With Pride
Horrifyingly, the moment nature called for me to head to the office latrine was the very moment it called half the Total Beauty staff, too. Shit, I thought for every reason. I hid the Poo-Pourri between the pages of a notebook as I tried to play it cool on the walk down the hall.
Surrounded by discerning colleagues, I nabbed the first stall and spritzed thrice, before realizing that in this communal environment, the problem would be less the smell and more ... well, the sound. Sure, my stall might not smell like poo, but it sure would sound like it.
So, I did what any self-preserving office pooper would do: I coordinated my mind with my sphincter and timed to tap the flush right as turd hit water. Three, two, one: Success. No smell, no plop, no evidence. I smiled at a coworker in the mirror as we washed our hands side by side, smugly satisfied with my little secret. Me and the Poo-Pourri really were a team.
SEE NEXT PAGE: The Poo-Pourri Conclusion: Poop With Pride