On some days, my regularity astounds me. On days like that, I feel invincible. I have a firm, heavy, healthy dump in the morning, and then I don't find even a trace or a hint of poop on the toilet paper. That's what I call a Good Ass Day. And usually, although I haven't actually done any rigorous research, it seems like days that start like that are usually pretty darn good all day long.
But there are other days when my morning grunting is not so sweet. I feel cramped or blocked, and insecure. Those days, I start out with less confidence. In general, you might call them Bad Ass Days. Yet I hasten to add that there are many variations and different degrees regarding Bad Ass Days.
There's really only one type of Good Ass Day. Bad Ass Days are another story.
When I wipe and come up empty, I stand tall and feel strong and perhaps even immortal. When this happens, I whisper to myself, "I'm clean. This is a Good Ass Day!" And I turn and stride forth into the day with confidence and a smile on my face.
But, unfortunately, that doesn't happen to often. Usually after wiping, the paper is covered with that brown muck, or sometimes with gobs, like wet mud. And then I have to fold the paper and go back in for another try. Sometimes I feel like I'm unfurling the entire paper roll to wipe my ass again and again. Two times, three times, four times... Some days it seems as if I have to go back five, six, seven, eight, nine times, and still I come up with a brown smear. At moments like that, all I can think is, "SHIT!" This is a Bad Ass Day.
I wonder. It scares me. How can this be? How hard do I have to wipe? How many times?!?
These are days I feel glum and confused. I leave home with a furrowed brow and cautiously go forward into what I expect will be a Bad Ass Day.
These are the extremes, of course. There are so many varying degrees in between. There are the two-wipe, three-wipe and four-wipe days. There's muck, there's goop, there's slop, and there's glop. There are smears. There's slime, and sometimes there's even yellow bile. And in silence, alone in that little room, I confront the reality of what I personally consider the most serious design flaw in human beings. On days like those, I curse the God who created us; and all I can do is hang my head.
This is something I think we all have in common. While there may be freaks out there somewhere who don't have a clue what I'm talking about, I'm sure I can't be alone. You've cursed the creator, too. Haven't you?