weeing & pooingShow most recent or highest rated first.
When I was 14 I had my appendix removed, I remember the doctor coming up to my bed and asking me if I have any pain when I passed water, immediately my mind flashed up the image of me passing a sink with the taps running, I thought it was a completely stupid question to ask, after all, how can walking past water cause pain? and so responded with a no.
After a long car trip when I was about six, my older sister and I both had to pee quite badly and raced to our bathroom. She told me that if I peed before her the water would turn to acid and burn her, so she had to go first. I believed her and let her go while I danced around in front of the door. It didn't occur to me until a few days later that pee was pee, no matter whose it was.
One x-mass eve my brother and I were taking a bath together.This time he had crapped in the tub. Due to all of the bubbles It took some time for me to notice. Until it brushed me on my leg. I let out an awful scream and began crying hysterically. My mom and her friends rushed in to see what all the ruckus was. To make things better she dumped out her egg nog and retrieved "the log" with her Santa Claus mug.(the kind that is a molded 3-d
head shot of Santa).All of us have seen them........
Due to this my brother and I used to think all Santa mugs were "log retrievers" And would declair so openly at a strangers house who to had santa mugs.
Well, due to the immense joy that the incident brought to my brother, he made it a regular habit. To make me feel better she allowed the Santa mug to sit by the tub for almost a year as my "heroic retriever".
When my mother died I inherited the entire set of Santa mugs. We cannot figure out which one was my "hero". If I ever serve you egg nog in a Santa mug, it means a really do not like you! :)
~Robert Sean Gibson
When I was about 4 years old, I noticed that my wee sometimes came out different colours: clear and yellow. Since I knew that I drink three types of drink (Orange, Lemon and Blackcurrant squash), it made sense that clear was Lemon and yellow was Orange... the trouble is, I was completely miffed as to where the pints of blackcurrant I drank disappeared to. Did they come out the other end? Did they get held inside... and if they did, what then? Would I explode or overflow. It was all quite harrowing for a confused little 4 year old.
I used to believe that if you ate, say Fish and Chips for dinner and then did a poo - That if you ate that poo the next day, the next poo would come out as Fish and chips.. Never tried this theory out though..
i used to believe that everyone had different colored pee. mine just happened to be yellow.
I used to believe (Until the age of 8) that women didn't go to the bathroom (bm or pee) and when I was about 8 I heard my mother peeing in the bathroom and ran running to my father screaming "MOM HAS A PENIS!"
On perfume bottles the 'eau de toilette' label, I thought the europeans somehow made thier perfumes from some sort of urine.
When I was in nursery school (pre-k), we would often take class walks around the neighborhood (to the park, "big" schools, etc.) Whenever there was dog poop on the sidewalk, the teachers would yell "single file! single file!" so we would stop holding hands and could clear the dog poop. For at least 2 years after that, I thought "single file" meant dog poop, and I would shout it out, like the teachers, whenever I saw some.
When I was about 4 years old, I asked my mom what happens when you don't pee or poop. She answered, "You just get bigger and bigger and bigger." So that afternoon my mom and I went to CVS and saw rather large lady. Then I screamed and pointed, "Look! That lady doesn't poop!"
sometimes my little brother would get constipated, so my Nan used to tell him to 'concentrate' when he was on the loo, to encourage him to go. I always thought that 'concentrate' was a posh word for having a poo, and still have to stop myself from giggling when a colleague says " Ssh; I'm concentrating."
When I was a school girl (first or second grade or so), there was a park near the school with lots of woods. I loved going and pooping in the woods. I was never what anyone would call exactly a naughty girl, but there was intrigue in the sort of taboo-breaking of going into the outdoors, baring my butt and belting out as big a dump as I could. My best friend at the time was named Julia and she often accompanied me into the woods. One day, I told her didn't she want to poop in the woods also. She told me she couldn't poop. I asked her why and she said "Julias don't poop!". I was disappointed, but believed her at the time. To this very day, whenever I meet anyone named Julia, I always have a bit of apprehension that she might be some kind of not quite human sprite, who is exempt from having to poop. And I wonder a bit what all else Julias might be exempt from.
As a little girl, I thought I knew the reason for separate girls' and boys' public bathrooms. I thought that both pee and poo must be fundamentally different in girls and boys. I thought the kind of toilets without tanks like I often encountered in girls' bathrooms were capable only of handling girls' excretions, and that what boys do wouldn't flush down them. Though I'd never seen what was in boys' public restrooms, I assumed there was a counterpart there that similarly couldn't flush what came out of girls. I assumed that only toilets with tanks on top, like the ones at home, were equipped to handle all four kinds of excretions. One day in Sunday school the teacher told us that the girls' room was out of order, and boys and girls would have to take separate turns using the boys' room. As fate would have it, I was pretty sure I'd have to poop before going home. I began to panic, thinking I'd surely make a mess in a boys' potty that wouldn't flush down. Years later I learned that panic and nervousness can cause diarrhea, and that surely must explain what happened next. While nervously sitting on a boys' potty I had my earliest experience I can remember with a really runny waterry stool. But what did I think at the time? I thought what I'd done must be a boy-type poo. Being in Church, I assumed that God had provided for me, making me for once do a boy poop, so it would flush down the boys' potty!
When I was about 3 or 4 years old I asked my mom what would happen if boys peed the same way as girls. (You know, sitting on the toilet instead of standing.) Well, I misheard her and I thought she said they would melt when she actually said they would make a mess.
When I was a kid, my big sister once told me that, if ever I touched my own poop, I would die. Boy, was I careful not to do that! But then one day, when I'd done a messier doodoo than I realized, some had gotten out beyond the reach of toilet paper. So in wiping, I felt something squooshy on my bare hand. I looked and, horror of horrors, a little dookey had gotten on my hand. Boy, was I patrified! It must have been ages before I got over a fear of dropping dead from that. To try to survive, or at least eradicate any evidence of the cause of my impending death, I must have washed that spot on my hand a thousand times. Then I'd smell it to try to see if I'd gotten it clean. But I found poopy smell is persistent! No matter how much I washed, that spot on my hand would still seem to smell like poopy. Finally years later, I became sure my sister had duped me. I finally thought to realize, since my poopoo always touches my anus, why doesn't it kill me from that? I realized I must have been really silly to believe my sister's words of doom. Finally one day, I had to prove things once and for all, so I dared to purposely catch a turd in my hand as it came out. I washed my hands really good afterwards, this time not caring how long there might be a tiny residual poop smell. Well, that's been several years ago and I haven't died yet!
I would observe my baby sister a whole bunch when I was young. (5). I noticed that every few hours she'd make a very intense face, and turn red. I was horrified, thinking that one day she'd turn into the devil!!
Turned out, she was just having a crap.
When I was a little girl, a friend told me that how "embarrasing" it is to go to the bathroom depends on one's hair color. She said that for blondes, pooping is more embarrasing than peeing, whereas for brunettes, peeing is the more embarrasing of the two. The reason? she told me that going to the bathroom is most embarrasing when you do something that doesn't match your hair! For years, I assiduously believed that as if rules of embarrassment were carved in stone. So as a blond, I was particularly secretive about my pooping. I'd almost faint in shame if my pooping was noisy and I thought anyone might have heard it, of if anyone came in afterwards and I thought they might be able to smell it. It's amazing that I never thought of carring around a brunette wig with me for when I needed to poop. But on growing up, I've really rebelled against this. I decided it was silly to think any rules of embarrassment so inflexible. Now I make it a point to be unabashed about pooping wherever and whenever I need to. Like just the other day, I was at a library where the ladies' room is small and has a vent on the door that wouldn't hold in much sound. A cute guy who had smiled at me was at a table nearby. I braved it all and went on in and did my poop which turned out to be a noisy one. I'm sure the guy heard it, but I prided myself on telling myself it's no big deal!
When I was about 5, I walked into the barn and caught my grandma squatting to pee. From the angle, it looked like it was coming from her butt. For years after that, I thought that girls peed out their butts. My sister had a doll that was supposed to "wet". This doll had a tiny hole above it's left buttock for that purpose. So, I believed that all girls had a hole above their left buttock for peeing.
I used to think that little people in my penis had crayons and colored my pee yellow.
once, when i was about 5, i wasn't feeling well and told my mum. she gave me a big hug and was about to go get the thermometer when i puked all over her shoes. I missed the next few days of school, and when my best friend asked me why i had been out i told her the whole scenario. she said that vomit is really poop and that if you have to poop and somebody hugs you just above the middle, it will come out your butt, but if they hugged you below the middle the contents of your intestines would come up and you would barf.this also led me to belive that if someone poked me right on my belly button that i would vomit and poop at the same time.