My Place My Bathroom

I love my new apartment and this isn’t a story about me gloating, talking about how glamours the home owner life is because honestly it sucks but that’s besides the fact. Having my own room, my own closet, and finally my own bathroom has been life changing and is exactly why I love my new place.

There is just one little hiccup about my place; the one bathroom that I say is finally my own is actually the only bathroom I have in my place. I’m not a lying calling it my own, it’s just I have to share it with any and everyone that comes over to my place. Which is no issue to me, I’ve shared a bathroom my whole life, just never a bathroom that is in the same room as my kitchen.

When I leave for work, typically I don’t get back home for another ten hours. Just to preface this, I’m the type of guy that can’t go to the bathroom without baby wipes. So when I get home from work the first place I need to go to is the bathroom. You can’t do what I held in for eight hours at work in a bathroom that opens up to your kitchen.

The other day I had to hold my shit. There friends at my place and I couldn’t let loose the way I needed to in front of them. Not only would they smell what was emptying out of me but they would hear me. I had a greasy lunch and it was ready to come roaring out.

I didn’t think about it once. I told myself I couldn’t shit in front of all these people and held it in. Three hours later when they all left, I raced to the bathroom to do the deed. I sat on the toilet for twenty minuets and nothing happened. What once was ready to fall right out of me if I bent the wrong way has now solidified inside of me.

I no longer had to use the bathroom anymore. It wouldn’t come out. It hasn’t come out. Here we are three days later, two chipotle meals in and I still haven’t been able to let loose. I don’t care if there are people at my house next time I have to go. This was my home, if I need to go the bathroom I’m going to use the bathroom.

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