At first we were laughing at our encounters with the brown remains -- not so much of our own buttprints, but of witnessing others with this terrible affliction. I remember giving someone a wedgie in grade school and seeing the brown line rise from behind his pants waist. Not a bad deterrent against giving further wedgies. I was so sickened that I never bothered him again!
The conversation continued that way until my friend (who insisted on remaining nameless for the purposes of this story) mentioned that his mother's husband had a "problem" with the topic at hand. This piqued my curiosity because I knew the afflicted. The chat turned a corner, and we found ourselves in an in-depth discussion about why brown streaks seem to be a problem for some people. It seems that my friend's mother's husband -- let's call him Wentworth, just for the hell of it -- has had this issue for quite some time. Wentworth is a short, thin, relatively healthy man in his sixties, so his issue has nothing to do with being unable to reach his nether regions. And yet it was told that this man would soil his whities beyond repair -- and that he's also been known to leave the dreaded skid mark on his pants as well! That's some serious soilage!
Apparently Wentworth and his wife weren't getting along, so he was sent to sleep on the couch indefinitely. Which meant, my friend said, "he would also leave racing stripes on the sheet covering the couch in the living room!"
"Did he soil the sheet THROUGH his underwear?!" I asked in astonishment. Can you imagine being able to penetrate a double layer with your crack tracks? (Truth is, he probably sleeps nude... but still!)
My friend explained that Wentworth had grown up poor and that his mother had died at a young age. Considering his other personal hygiene issues, it is believed that he simply was not taught how to take care of himself. Wentworth's wife (my friend's mother) says that she is almost 100% certain that he either doesn't wipe, or just wipes once and figures that it's good enough. She also said that she was tired of trying to clean shit stains out of everything. (My question: why the hell did she marry this guy?!)
Common sense must tell you that you wipe until your bottom is clean -- but for someone who did not have the proper upbringing and toilet training, it may not be that simple. Can a person honestly walk around with a shit-spackled butt and not know it? Or -- can a person walk around with a shit-spackled butt and just not care?
I guess these issues must also be at play for those who reek of body odor, considering they have no problem shoving their pits in my face on the subway. There are many aspects to this question! The smell, the obvious evidence on the underwear, the discomfort one must feel with dried shit in their ass... I could go on, but I'm sure you get the point.
I can only theorize that people with this problem were not taught how to take proper care of their bodies. Not only from the age of their first poop, but straight on through their school days (surely someone should have noticed!) and in to the working world -- a lack of oversight both from mom and dad, and then society in general. It's fascinating to me that a person like Wentworth can exist in this world without caring about anyone else's opinion of his offending (non) habits. (The fact that his wife put up with it adds to the mystery.)
Perhaps we take our post-poop rituals for granted. Have you ever thought about how you developed your bathroom habits? Until now, I never did. I always assumed my knowledge, habits and preferences related to the potty were instinct, second nature. But it's obvious now that these are learned behaviors. Could it be that everything we do in the bathroom is taught -- and that instinct plays no role in the bathroom whatsoever?
My friend and I wrapped up the discussion, deciding it was a mystery best left alone; but I extend the discussion to you, my fellow PoopReporters. Still, regardless of what is said here, I stand by our conclusion: Wentworth's underwear is something that is best left alone. Shudder.