Growing up, my older sister and I spent much time with our dad. Whether hunting, fishing, or grilling on the weekend, we were with Dad. I guess that gave Mom a break from being with us. Probably a much-needed break, though she would never say that. I truly don’t know if that was the plan or if Dad just really liked to have us with him. Being with Dad you learn that nothing was off limits, all things were things to talk about, discussions to be had. Even if it is diarrhea in the woods.
Dad was always very open about if you have to go to the bathroom, just let him know. He never had a problem getting you where you needed to go. That often included the woods, or on the shore if you were on the boat fishing. He never acted put out that he had to get you somewhere to “do your business”.
He always said, and still says, if you got to go, you got to go.
We were part of a large hunting group growing up. It has since disbanded as the land we hunted on was public and has since been earmarked for a different purpose. But this large hunting group was mostly men.
Bugs in the woods
One particular day I had picked up a stomach bug and you could say I was “under the weather”. It was diarrhea. Diarrhea in the woods. No bathroom facilities. A teenage girl in the woods with diarrhea.
Top that with a dad who is an oversharer. Dad told all his buddies that, “Amy has been in the woods all morning with a stomach bug”. Oh. Thanks, Dad. I really did not need everyone to know I had been in the woods shitting all morning.
But that is Dad. It wasn’t a big deal to him. Or the men folk he was telling. It was just a natural thing that happens to all of us sometimes.
A year or two ago, amidst my newfound IBS symptoms, Dad and I were out on the boat fishing. I always bring snacks and sandwiches, as I get munchy and hungry often. Having not yet discovered that apples were a problem for me, I indulged in an apple. Almost immediately I had to go.
Panic. Why do I panic? Can’t I just control this mind into slowing down and thinking through the situation? I was losing control, my stomach was making the gurgles and bubbles. I needed a bathroom and quick.
Things to talk about
I told Dad I had to go and it was immediate. That man is so calm and understanding. He started maneuvering the boat closer to shore as plundered around the boat and found the toilet paper.
The lake we were fishing in had a lot of fallen trees and stumps close to the shore making it hard to get the boat near enough to land so I could just step out. He couldn’t get us there and I was starting to go into a panic.
I am not sure how he does it
I cried out loud that I was going to shit my pants and didn’t want to shit my pants. Calm Dad says at that moment, “It is okay, we have all shit our pants”. And he is right. And he would not have thought any differently of me if at that moment I shit my pants.
Certainly, not everyone has shit their pants. But I imagine more people have shit their pants than they own up to. It is definitely embarrassing and not something that anyone wants to happen, but it does happen.
I believe the more we share our pant-shitting stories the less embarrassed the teenage girls who are out hunting with their dads are. Like my Dad has always said, if you gotta go, you gotta go.
Discussions to be had
Do you have any accidents in your pants stories?
Or even near accidents in your pants stories? Those are just a traumatic.
