My fella is pretty modern-thinking. He’s well-acquainted with thenecessity of my diaphragm, and he is not afraid of my period. When we camp out, I get pretty smelly and greasy, and often piss within his visual and aural range. Farts are not a big deal. He understands that I am a person and thus have bodily functions. He is comfortable with the processes of my existing.
But he does not like evidence of my bowel movements. If something does not sufficiently flush, he is upset. If I mention being backed up, he is visibly uncomfortable. If someone brings it up in conversation, he goes suddenly silent.
Though poop, feces, bowel movements are common conversational fodder for men in socializing and in media depiction, for women they are taboo. In society with men, poop is something we don’t mention unless we’re desperate to shock, desperate for laughs. Discussing it in public is crass and uncomfortable. “Everybody poops. Except for women,” as Sarah Haskins says in one of her hilarious Target: Women sketches.I almost didn’t reblog this, because I was afraid people would think it was disgusting. Then I realized, that (the fear of people thinking it was disgusting) is exactly the point.
Heh. ^^;
I was going to link to this, and I had the same thought: like, I wonder how many followers I will lose? But damnit, I loved this post so much, so I shall reblog your reblog.
I have no idea why, but I am surrounded by women who talk about poop at work. They have no qualms announcing to the rest of us that they’re off to go drop the kids at the pool.
I’m not trying for the whole “I know someone who doesn’t fit into this model, therefore your argument is invalid” thing, but I think it might have something to do with the environment in which I work. The bar is roughly 50/50 male and female, and 3/4 of the managers are women. It is, however, a very small environment. The space we have to work in is about 3 feet, but within that space, on a weekend night, you’ll have at least two people serving drinks, one of the floor staff restocking the glasses and then myself - the barback - trying to fill fridges.
As a result, personal space is not really an option. I spend most of my shift with somebodies ass pressed against the back of my head. You can’t really work in that environment without either:
- Killing someone or
- Becoming very intimate
After work back rubs are a common occurance, as is tickling and poking and crass jokes about genitals and masturbation. Talking about poop is a fairly logical progression from all that.
I’m not sure what they’re like outside of work because I’ve only hung out with them as work friends and whilst none of them are what you’d describe as “real” girls, I doubt they’d be as crass in their day to day lives.
Reblogging because I ain’t afraid of no poop and that’s my comment right there. Number 1. Would have been funnier if I’d commented second.