Shameful Shitters' Anonymous

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You don't really need to know my name. Nor where I live. I could be Charlie Cubicle, Tommy Timeclock or Oscar Ordertaker at your workplace. Maybe I live next door to you or just down the street in your hometown, a fellow citizen of Regularville, USA. You probably think you know me, however casually -- but you really don't know me at all.

The fact is, I am anything but a citizen of Regularville. I don't struggle with constipation or diarrhea, with IBS or any other more obviously symptomatic condition. But I do suffer from having a shameful attitude towards the bathroom scene. Somewhat regarding #1; but explicitly where #2 is concerned.

I'm not exactly sure how it all got started. Is it genetic? Or should I look back on my potty training for clues? Regarding the latter: I don't find much there worth examining. Perhaps I don't really remember the details because that was so long ago. All I can tell you is that at some point in my childhood I emerged with a full-blown sense of shame about when it came to taking a bowel movement anywhere except on my familiar home toilet.

Growing up, I was the type that actually held it in all during school hours. I reluctantly allowed myself to go to the boys' room once or twice during the day to do #1. But even then I couldn't bring myself to step up to the urinals beside the other boys. I ducked into one of the stalls -- classic case of bashful kidney. Not that I didn't want to be able to stroll casually up to the urinals and let fly, maybe laughing and joking alongside classmates who seemed to think nothing of performing the act in such a public way. I envied them their sense of ease.

But my shyness regarding public urination paled in comparison to my total inability to unleash the bowel beast. Not only did I want to keep this procedure under wraps until well within sight of familiar port (o-let), I didn't even want to admit that I was keeping it under wraps. For those of us who are truly shameful, even talking about the deed is a trial. Some of us not only don't want others to see, hear, or smell us in public bathrooms -- some of us don't even want others to tumble to the fact that we are headed towards the bathroom at all. Even knowing that others may have guessed what we are up to is painful for us. When all is said and done, we practice quite a tangled web of deceit.

So after years and years of struggling with the discomfort and inconvenience of having to time my bowel movements for private home performances only, I decided to do something about this lamentable situation. I joined the local Regularville chapter of a relatively new organization called Shameful Shitters' Anonymous. I thought you might like to hear how things went during my first meeting.

First off, there were only about a dozen other people in attendance. The entire movement -- and I use the word appropriately here -- only emerged about five years ago, so there aren't yet that many established chapters available across the nation to the general public. But from the moment you walk into the room, there is a deliberate attempt to defuse your long-term sense of discomfort with a disarming touch of humor. You are greeted at the door by the chapter's team leader -- in my case, a man calling himself The Big Turtlehead. He had a little nametag on his shirt that identified him just that way; the first thing I did when I saw it was smile broadly and openly.

"There ya go!" The Big Turtlehead said to me, shaking my hand and then assuring me that he had washed it thoroughly after his most recent bathroom use. "Smiling about your problem is the first step towards a healthier, more relaxed attitude! Now, just plop down in your seat, my friend, and we'll get things moving!"

I settled in, feeling that maybe this wasn't going to be such a strain after all. The others in the room were smiling at The Big Turtlehead, who began the meeting by leading the group in the following recitation:

"We acknowledge freely that we are Shameful Shitters. We like to hold things in rather than letting them out in a timely manner. We think up excuses not to go and we look for places to hide. We know we need to learn to drop the kids off at the pool without riding around for hours in search of the perfect hidden stream. We will work on doo-ing better, without regard to time or place. We will diligently attempt to develop a more shameless attitude towards what must inevitably come from where the sun don't shine -- so help us, Kohler!"

There was a spate of pleasant snickering following this opening 'prayer', if you will; and I felt a wonderful sense of relief at hearing such sentiments expressed so openly by people who had the same problem as I. Knowing they had come this far to learn how to go more easily, I instantly felt that the program might be just the thing to get me off the pot on this issue. Or on the pot, rather; and any pot, mind you, not just Old McFlusher down on the farm.)

I then listened quite intently to a couple of testimonials from Shameful Shitters who were making slow but steady progress. One man, whose nametag identified him as Stealthy Steve, revealed that before his matriculation in the program he had routinely used his entire lunch hour to drive home and back just to take his daily constitutional (his words, not mine -- he said he was working on finally being able to call it "taking a dump"). Now, he said, he had at least modified his behavior to the extent that he had scoured his office building to find its least-used single-user facility -- a safe haven in which he could perform on his lunch hour. With the price of gas going through the roof these days, he revealed, it was costing him a fortune to maintain his shameful attitude; this less drastic position was actually saving him serious money throughout the workweek.

Steve was roundly applauded for his progress, although The Big Turtlehead reminded him that his ultimate goal should be to freely use the multiple-user mens' room on his own floor at any time nature called. Steve would know that he was completely cured when he was able to actually announce to co-workers where he was going, tucking a newspaper under his arm as he left.

Another program participant, whose nametag identified her as Very Private First Class Polly, then stood up. Polly testified that she had recently and finally joined the ranks of the many women who go to public bathrooms together (to do God-knows-what) and had actually taken a stall next to a girlfriend of hers, where she managed to participate in a normal, meaningless conversation full of small talk through the stall wall -- while doing the deed.

"It was heaven!" Polly continued. "Before Shameful Shitters' Anonymous, I would have declined such an invitation to go powder my nose with my gal pals. I would have made some excuse about absolutely not having to go or something like that. What I've discovered now is that those public stalls are almost like confessionals. You can tell your girlfriends just about anything with those dividers between you. I love my newfound freedom!" Polly, too, was then applauded for the steps she had managed to take away from shamefulness.

I was then introduced to the gang. For starters, they asked me to stand up and say to them, "My name is (Phil In The Blank), and I am a Shameful Shitter!" The applause I received for this simple admission blanketed me like a big whiff of room deodorizer, and I knew that I was well on my way to success, wiping away my cares and woes, and -- with a flick of the handle -- likely flushing them down the drain forever.

Should my problem also be yours, may I wholeheartedly recommend that you look into the chapter of Shameful Shitters' Anonymous nearest to you. You have nothing to lose but your load. In a timely manner.

30 Comments on "Shameful Shitters' Anonymous"

Fart Poopie's picture
j 1000+ points

Bravo. Well written, TBW.

Logjam's picture
Comment Quality Moderatori 2000+ points

Might I propose that rather than viewing shameful shitting as a dysfunction to cure, that we consider it an alternative lifestyle, perhaps even genetically based? I know of at least 3 shameful shitters who see my more shameless orientation as aberrant. Why should we care if they don't? The upside is that the more shameful shitters there are out there, the more open stalls for the shameless.

(Lots of folks would like to "cure" habitual punners.)

Logjam

Go Away's picture

I'd like to think that I am a shameless shitter. I have no problems at all letting fly in public restrooms. I even make intentional attempts to produce loud farts or splashs because I find it hilarious!

Perhaps the only thing that can make me shameful is an unclean bathroom. I can't even use a toilet if it is spotless aside from unflushed pee. In a home I can flush it and then use it, but in public it needs to be clean. I also get freaked out when I sit down on a visibly clean seat only to have the seat cling to my ass like a round post-it note. Needless to say I do not like turd terrorism.

I don't have problems going in friend's houses. I will NOT use the bathroom of someone I do not know well, such as a PC repair client. If I am in a friend's house, I always emerge proud if I've made a loud noise or if I cause buzzards within a two mile radius to flee.

An English gent's picture

I am surprised by the nature of shamefulness described by so many correspondents to PR. If the door is shut, why bother about who is outside and whether they have the slightest curiosity about your identity or your activities. If there is no door, as seems a commonplace in parts of America, I can understand those unfamiliar with the ethos of such facilities being shy and embarrassed. It is not given to all of us to sit at ease with our hairy chest, our beer gut or other paunch and our personal love muscle revealed for all to admire. It doesn't bother me, but I respect the fact that mine is an unusual attitude. In England we always have doors to bog cubicles that are used by groups of people, in schools, factories, municipal facilities etc. So far as I know the military services do not use open stalls as means of bonding. So far as I know, football team dressing rooms may have open showers, where the team gathers together and scrubs and sings, but never have open bogs. Never can one be totally shameless in England and I would relish the opportunity of enjoying fully shameless shitting, as both an observer, learning new and better techniques for evacuation and cleaning, and as a participant.

I wish the new society well; perhaps we shall one day have a chapter opf Shameless Shitters Anonymous in London, or even Aberdeen!

Does a Scotsman wearing a kilt drop his kilt or raise it round his body when he dumps, as women do their skirts? I have seen two kilt wearers crap and both lifted their kilts, like skirts.

Shatty Cake's picture
l 100+ points

Looking back, I can see that in my school days I was a Shameful Shitter. I can't remember ever taking a dump in school. Seriously. I'm talking from kindergarten all the way through high school. Strict hold-it-in policy.

I was lucky that I was on a regular poop schedule and never had any intestinal problems that would have forced me to go during the school day. Or maybe it was just super-strong sphincter muscles.

I'm not sure why I was so shameful. I guess it was squeamishness or embarrassment. Or revulsion at that combined smell of disinfectant and kiddy poo.

Fully cured now, thankfully.

The Shit Volcano's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorh 3000+ points

I am the Shit Volcano, and I am a bathroom stinker.

No one will see me in Poopers Anonymous because I don't care who knows I shit in the bathroom.

Good artle though, Wiper.

I found Jesus! He was behind the sofa the whole time!

The Shit Volcano's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorh 3000+ points

Article!

God damn typos!

I found Jesus! He was behind the sofa the whole time!

L Wrong Hubbard's picture
l 100+ points

I used to hold it in in high school, but college cured me of that. Now I can shit in any public restroom and I don't even need fancy seat covers.
It can be "outgrown"

Happy trails,
L. Wrong
Chairman & CEO, PPK Industries

Happy trails,
L. Wrong
Chairman & CEO, PPK Industries

Anonymous Coward's picture

I was thinking of this at work today. I entered the two-stall mens room hoping to take a dump, noticing that the maintenance guy was working on the other toilet. Deciding what the hell, I sat down and let her rip. I almost felt rude farting up a storm with someone in there trying to fix a broken shitter but thankfully it didn't smell bad. After a few loud farts, the turd mysteriously disappered back into my intestines negating the whole objective. He was gone by the time I emerged from the stall only to make eye contact with someone in there taking a piss. Oh well, I just don't give a damn.

Kev the Grad's picture

Was TBW writing 'tongue in cheek'. Maybe not - he would need a long tongue to reach down that far. I should think it would be VERY BAD TASTE!

I had an experience recently where Shameless Shitters would be very ashamed of me. I was weighed in the balance and found wanting. I will write about this when I have time.

The Big Wiper's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Quality Moderatori 2000+ pointsj 1000+ pointsk 500+ pointsl 100+ pointsm 1+ points - Newb

Nice thread on this subject from my fellow poopers! The more we all get the subject out in the open, the more understanding and tolerance there will be of those who are now dealing with the ever-present issue of their bathroom habits' comfort zone.

Pulling My Pants Down For Peace, Plop and Posterity!

MegaDump's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

This kind of program would never work for me - I'd be too shameful to turn up for meetings

The Shit Volcano's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorh 3000+ points

This is exactly the reason I never showed up for my social anxiety therapy group.

I found Jesus! He was behind the sofa the whole time!

Kev the Grad's picture

I wrote earlier about 'shameless shitting' when I shared a house when at university with 4 other guys. We had a contract of shamelessness among ourselves, as our routine tended to mean that we needed to save time when in the bathroom together. It was a matter of convenience, but the positive side of it meant that there was bonding between us. We all thought that dropping our jeans, enabling other matter to drop, was best done before leaving the house, rather than putting it off. 'Poocrastination is the thief of time', as Edward Young, an English poet, wrote.

After graduation we went our separate ways - they all went into aspects of defence, and are now high earners. I went on to do a PhD, working part time to help with finance. (I now have a good job, not in defence, because I am a pacifist Christian. Not paid as well as they are, but there is good job satisfaction.)

One of my university mates and his girl-friend invited me up to Scotland to celebrate their five years of living together, and to celebrate my getting a doctorate.

I decided to come back to England early on the Sunday morning, when traffic would be easier. We had been talking into the early hours, they had been drinking more wine than I had. I left without disturbing them, and didn't use the loo so as not to flush it, and made myself a drink for my flask, and took a sandwich and some fruit, prepared the night before, to eat on the way. I knew that if I had anything to eat, there would be stirrings in my tummy. I was pretty desperate for a wee, but held on until I got into open country, and stopped the car at the side of the road, and got out and unzipped and aimed into a field, praying that no car would come by. None did. (Normally I climb over a fence or into some woods, so as not to be seen, but it had been raining.)

Then I ate my makeshift breakfast, knowing I was getting near to the motorway, where there would soon be a service station. Sufficient time should have passed between my breakfast and a worth-while ensconcement in a cubicle in the male facilities. I bought my 'Observer' newspaper, and I disappeared behind a locked door. I grunted and I pushed and I squeezed. To no avail. Just wind (and a pee). There was no queue, so it didn't matter. I got engrossed in reading my paper for about 20 minutes, and almost forgot where I was sitting. Clearly, there was nothing doing. I wiped, in case the farts had left a visiting card, but they hadn't. There had been no fee to pay for going in, but I thought about an old limerick which my grandfather used to tell:

There was an old lady of Ossett
Paid twopence to go in a closet
When she got there
There was nothing but air
That wasn't worth tuppence now was it

I washed my hands and got on my way.

Clearly urge and opportunity hadn't gone together.

I went on, and came off the motorway where I knew there was a supermarket nearby. Sunday afternoons are a cheap time to shop, especially fruit and vegetables which they are selling off. They usually have good facilities. I put my shopping into the car, and felt that the 'urge' might be coming on. So I went back to the store. There were two cubicles, one without a door on, and three urinals. One of the cubicles had no door on, and the other was occupied. There were three grown-up guys and two younger boys in the shitting queue, and others were using the doorless WC as an overflow urinal (pun intended). Nobody had the guts to be shameless, and neither had I. I continued my journey, another 150 miles from home. I ate some of the fresh fruit and some of the vegetables which I had cooked. I was tired, and went to bed. In the morning when I woke up, made a hot drink and had some cereal and some more fruit. I looked at my emails, and then suddenly everything was OK. I had one of the most enjoyable and satisfying shits of my whole life. Two days of it stored up. But I don't make a habit of poocrastination. As someone else said, 'When yer gotta go, yer gotta go.'

A policy of absolute shamelessness can never be completely universal. The culture of Western society, with its capitalism and individualism and pretence, prevents it But those who have done well in life should never forget that we are the same as everybody else. .

The Big Wiper's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Quality Moderatori 2000+ pointsj 1000+ pointsk 500+ pointsl 100+ pointsm 1+ points - Newb

Kev: your comments are greatly appreciated. But this post is so complete and interesting that it deserves being submitted to Dave-O, himself, for the Front Page as a story in its own right.

You can always e-mail him at: dave@poopreport.com when you have this much input...er, output.

Excellent post, my friend!

Pulling My Pants Down For Peace, Plop and Posterity!

Bilgepump's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorh 3000+ points

The 12 steps of Shameful Shitters Anonymous:

1) We admitted we were powerless over poop, that our anus had become unmanageable.

2) Came to believe in a stall that could restore us to regularity.

3) Made a decision to turn our turds, and our wipes, over to the care of this stall.

4) Made a searching and fearless wipe of ourselves.

5) Admitted to stall, ourselves, and Poop report the exact nature of our crap.

6) Were entirely ready to have the stall remove our turds.

7) Humbly asked the stall to remove our crap

8) Made a list of all stalls we had snubbed, and became willing to use them whenever possible.

9) Made direct use of these stalls, except when to do so would cause harm to another stall.

10) Continued to take dumps where ever necessary, and when we had to go, promptly admitted it.

11) Sought through prayer and meditation (on the throne) the knowledge of the stall's will, and asked for the power to carry turds out.

12) Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we carry this message to other shameful shitters, and practice these principles in all our restroom visits.

My apologies to AA, from whom I stole these steps, but I am a member, so its being put into practice, for the good of all mankind, which is what the big book teaches us!!!!

"One of the founding members of the Front Page Hyena Pack, and runs as its alpha male when the urge strikes him, which is often." Daphne (one perceptive chick)

Dave's picture
PoopReport of the Year AwardComment Content Moderatora 10000+ points - Super Pooper

Bilgepump -- one day that will be on the walls of church rec rooms all over the country. Sheer poetry.

Sitting Wiper's picture

A lot of the discussion continues in similar vein to the older forum 'In Defense of Open Stalls'.

Kev the Grad: I wonder if the supermarket with the Doorless Stall is the same one which my son and his little brother encountered when they went shopping with their mum during the school half-term holiday. They know how much they can drink without asking to go to the toilet during lesson-time. On holidays and weekends they take more time with their breakfast, and do not ration the number of cups of tea they drink, because loos are more accessible.

After their post-breakfast sitting (and wiping) off they went in the car. The younger one said 'I need a wee', and his brother took him to the gents' toilets. Fortunately they didn't need privacy, but one of the doors was off. Our little boy couldn't get over this, and told everybody. Last weekend, I did the shopping as their mum was working. It's virtually certain that the little one made sure that he wanted to go, to see if it had been mended. It hadn't - so that door had been off at least three weeks. (They like to do their toileting together, without a parent being there - this is part of growing up - and they joined me to help with the shopping in the store.)

This supermarket chain has been taken over by a larger American one - I wonder if this is part of the Americanisation of Britain. Certainly since the American company took over, standards have fallen in many ways.

Our 'shamelessness' is restricted to certain individuals, and none of us would have sat on that doorless toilet. (There is also a disabled toilet in the store, which in emergency you could use.)

Sitting Wiper's picture

I notice in today's British news that the supermarket chain, and the American company which owns it, are losing business. Presumably, both kinds.

shy_pooper's picture

Hello, I am also a shameful shitter. I never went at school or work ever. Even my need to hide the fact that I had to go was strong. I never mentioned having to go to my closest friends. I dont really know why but as long as I can remember that's how Iv been.

The Public Plopper's picture

A message of hope to all you clean-breakers
It all started when I blocked auntie Mavis’s toilet during a Tupperware party at the age of twelve.
The proud and gleaming result of bran
flakes for breakfast and chilli dogs for lunch, lay wedged in her dainty pink toilet
like Redwood in village fountain.
It would have been a shame to have
flushed this Giant without anybody seeing it but,as each of the 7 guests joined the futile efforts to clear the WC, it started to get embarrassing.
No one even recognised the beauty and elegance of it.
This wasn’t just your average WC blocker,
this was a fart free clean break,
and a fat steamer at that.
This failure of recognition overwhelmed the embarrassment and has followed me to this day,
turning me into the public plopper that I am.
All I can say to those shameful shitters is start now.
I’ve never looked back and I can safely say
it’s changed my life.
I started practising terd terror at local swimming baths,launching large “subs” mostly in the senor citizens area then enjoying the ensuing chaos. You can of course start with
hotel or museum aquariums, it’s a question of taste.
A bungy jump with dropped trousers is a sort of crash therapy and is considered to be the ultimate drop, but is a particularly risky business and shouldn’t be tried alone.

freddy krueger 16's picture

Hello people. Hows life?

Just logged onto this website and have to admit it contains some really funny shit. But I digress...

As far as shameless shitting goes, I have yet to even come close to the boldness of some people here! Absolutely amazing. They can just go into any random public stall and start farting or plopping away. Right now that seems impossible for me to even THINK of achieving. So, as of now, I place myself under the "shameful" category. I only go in public restrooms in emergencies, but otherwise have to be locked behind a door in my own bathroom, and allow nobody near me while I'm on the crapper. If I happen to be on my own toilet, I can be as relaxed as I please and take as long as I wish. I can't exactly explain what I'm afraid of, but public stalls are a NO-NO for the time being. That's just how I am and I hope people can respect that I am very shameful when it comes to pooping.

I definitely envy all shameless shitters, and hopefully I will change in the future.

See you poopreporters around.

Brown Bomber's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

I confess I was a shameful shitter, I still have many of the traits. I never once took a dump in my high school restrooms. Never. As a young child I was sent to a Christian summer camp for a week ... I shit once, after holding it for three solid days I pooped on a Wednesday because I could hold it no longer.
I have been cured of many of my public shitting fears, I think marriage helped, I can now shit with the door open at home in front of the wife. I still have some quirks though. Outside the home I try to time my comings and goings with the people in the surrounding stalls to avoid the shameful glances. I've actually gone into the restroom at work and seen coworkers in there and faked like I was using the urinal until they left, and then headed for the stall.
In town I know all the good hotels and restaurants where the stalls are clean and have floor length doors so if were downtown and the urge hits, I know right where to go.
Big problems for me are other peoples homes, especially if the bathroom is right off the living room, where everyone can hear your business, extra penalty points for no fan or one of those real quite fans. Worse still is the patio party, when you sneak off into the quite, deserted house to have a nice private dump and realize that the bathroom window faces the very patio you just left and everyone is sitting around out there enjoying the nice quite day, inches away, and the goddamn window is open! And you can't close it because that's like making an announcement to everyone that your about to stink up the place, and could you maybe turn up the radio so you don't have to hear all the splashing.
Yes I have come a long way from the days of actually going home from a social event just to shit, or dropping a date off early and not even walking her to the door for a goodnight kiss and possibly a whole lot more because, "Sorry Baby, I'm still have a relationship with my small intestine and she calls all the shots." Yes I've come a long way but I still have a long way to go.

The Gr8t Poodini's picture
m 1+ points - Newb

For the most part I am A Shameless Shitter. There are certain times that I surprise myself with reluctance.

Every now and then I come across a situation when I measure urgency and etiquette, this was the case when I felt like taking a shit but there was only 2 stalls sitting side by side and one stall was already occupied. This is the old story of the one stall buffer rule.

I could have easily gone to another bathroom not 1 minute away but becoming aware of my reluctance, I made it a mission to pop a squat next to my fellow shitter and I did just that. after 5 minutes I flushed as did my partner in crime.

I sort of felt a certain connection with this person even though all I had seen of him to this point was his shoes and pants at the ankles. It was like a connection of old war buddies where there is no need to talk about the experience but having shared it together created an unspoken bond.

I walked out of that stall with a smirk on my face and contentment in my soul. As my friend exited his stall just after me there was quick moment of eye contact followed by a subtle head nod. There is all sorts of head nods but this was a particular and unmistakable head nod, this was the “good work back there”, “you too chief” sorta nod.

To this day I look back at this moment as a big turning point in my life and in my career of taking dumps. I left that restroom a little wiser, a little lighter, and with a sense of pride, confidence, and triumph. At that moment, I was all that is man.

Anonymous Coward's picture

Wow. Pooping without shame is wrong. Don't rock the boat people!

Sitting Wiper's picture

The Glastonbury Festival, currently taking place in South West England, is sponsored by the Guardian Newspaper (along with other sponsors).

In the internet edition, there is a series of 15 pictures depicting life at the festival. Picture No 2 (appropriately) could be a title for this picture.

Learning to be shameless on the job, or being thrown in at the deep end!

Anonymous Coward's picture

some of you people on here are sick. public shitting is very bad manners. trust me, no one wants to walk into a restroom and smell someone else's shit! shitting should be done at your own home. that's just common decency and no one should feel shame or guilt for having good manners.

ChiliKahKah's picture
j 1000+ points

In the world of being shameless, one public pooping is too many and then all the rest of the public poopings are not enough

Bilgepump's picture
Comment Quality Moderatorh 3000+ points

Since a few of our newer folks seem to have difficulty, thought I'd drag The Big Wiper's classic up to the fore front...


_______

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough.

"One of the founding members of the Front Page Hyena Pack, and runs as its alpha male when the urge strikes him, which is often." Daphne (one perceptive chick)

Bran Lover's picture
k 500+ points

Thank you Bile, uhh, Bilge. Chief referred me to this article the other day and I couldn't find it.
I don't think I am all that shameful, but I have helped my other half not be so damn shameful. I was sick of having to run home in the middle of something fun to let him go poop in his own home. Screw that! Figure it out. Deal with it. Get it over with.

I felt no shame in making him do this. I had shopping to do and I didn't wanna stop! He was doing much better til the one time we were at the mall. An old Peeping Tom stretched his head under the stall to peek up at my husband while his pants were around his ankles. Hubby cursed at him, tried to punch the old idiot in the face and missed. Hubby finished up, followed him out the bathroom and stalked him. The old dude went into another bathroom at the next department store down the line. Hubby found this store's security guy and ratted the perv out. Yes, peeping was underway at the new bathroom and the geezer got caught. Alas and alak, hubby's rehabilitation at shameless shitting is much slower now. Mfmfkgmfr...


_______
To affect the quality of the poo, that is the art of life. ~Thoreau, sort of.

To affect the quality of the poo, that is the art of life. ~Thoreau, sort of.

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