If you are easily disgusted by talks about poopies, please DO NOT continue further. If you cannot stand talks about toilet habits, please STOP NOW. Or maybe you can just watch the Piku trailer. Whatever. MOO I know you will hate this post! Ani, I am sure you are already fascinated.
TOO MUCH INFORMATION ALERT
Have you guys seen Piku yet? Or at least seen the trailer? I will link it down below so that you can watch it. It is pretty cute and funny.
Regarding the toilet humor, quite literally, I found it hilarious and one that resonates with my household pretty much.
We are a family of people with badddd stomachs. And it includes the dog as well. Our daily discussions start in the morning with the quality of motion. My parents and I are hoarders of Sat Isapgol(hemp flax?!?) which is a natural fibrous laxative. The most exciting thing to have happened when I was newly exploring San Diego after my new move to USA, was discovring packets of Isapgul at an Indian grocery store. It was magnificent.
My father is always complaining about how he is either constipated or he has diarrhea. He will claim he needs to eat less because his stomach is not okay, but you don’t see that in reality. How the heck is he still so skinny, I have no idea. I remember hearing the same dialogue every day of my life since childhood, “I will eat light tonight, my tummy feels bloated.” My mother has issues with fissures because she ignored a lot of her digestive health as a child and also childbirth pretty much screws women up. So, she is not supposed to be eating very spicy, ginger-ey or garlic-ey food. Yet she does, and proceeds to complain about it till you get sick of it and yell at her, like, if she knows she is not supposed to eat those things, then why would she! She is also allergic to eggs and screws up her stomach with even a piece of cake, or anything that has eggs in it. Yet, she will eat that and then complain all night, morning and day.
I, am worse, in many ways. My laziness is at such a height, that when I was a kid, I wouldn’t go for days, just because it seemed like so much work. I had learned how to control myself, despite all the warnings I got from my parents all the time. It made travelling in trains and buses easier for sure. It annoys me to death, the way my mom will go to the loo in the train first thing in the morning, and will come back and ask for the paper soap and napkin in front of the ENTIRE compartment of people. I cannot stand the thought of going for my business in the train. Ewwwwwwwwww. When visiting India for the first time after starting my Masters, I had to go to Indore for a cousin’s wedding by train, within a couple of days of landing. While there, I made a fabulous decision of drinking 4-5 glasses of yummy jaljeera, in that sweltering heat, and god knows what kind of water. My mom always makes me carry a bottle of water from home since a 9 year old me got Typhoid. The jaljeera binge looked like the worst idea ever when it ruined my time. My grand plans of eating all the awesome chaat, that is so famous and that I thoroughly miss, went down the, errr, flush. The train ride back home was miserable, since I was shooting from both the ends and had a fever going on. The lesser said the better. I remember eating only ice cream for the next 2-3 days. It was just horrible.
I am usually oscillating between the two ends of the spectrum. It’s either nothing, or diarrhea. I tend to develop the latter at the time of an exam or interview. I have learnt to keep Pudin Hara(a green mint capsule) with me ALL the time. If I eat Thai food, I need it guaranteed. If I eat spicy street food in India, I will need it. If I have an important meeting or presentation, like hell I will need it. On the day of my flight back to USA in January, I spent the lat few hours at home flitting in and out of the loo. My uncle would call to talk to me and say bye and he called me 4 times, and the times I was inside. He was laughing because he knows my agony way too well. His 10 year old boy has the same stomach and mental disorder. Do you know the feeling when you are super sure that if you dig in the ground at a certain point, you WILL find treasure, but it’s a fruitless effort? Sighhhhhh. The hurt and the disappointment.
You know, if I am going out or have a party to attend in the evening, I start planning my outfit as soon as I learn about the event. The next thing that pops in my hair is about when to wash my hair. And the third thing is, how and when to go and empty my stomach. If I have an early morning road trip, touristy thing, my running events, I HAVE to wake up so that I keep half an hour to get ready and around 45 minutes just to force my stomach to behave itself and let it go….(Elsa style from Frozen). The day I accomplish this, I have a certain glow about me.
When I lived with roommates in Lonavala during my Engg, we were a super conscious bunch who overcame eventually the need to tell that they are going to need the loo for quite some time. It was 4-5 girls and one restroom. It had to happen. Thankfully the bathroom and loo were separate! But during the deed, we would be constantly flushing because OMG, lest someone hears us doing something that every human being HAS to do. One of the roommates, IB, did not think we could hear. So we ended up naming her Ploppity Plop. 😀 In the States, we have the exhaust fans installed in restrooms, which makes me feel so much better. But I have my own bathroom in my room now, so I am at peace. At work, I tend to go for any business when no one else is there. I don’t know why, but I need complete privacy. If someone comes when I am in a stall, I go deathly still until they have left. Mind you, my work starts at 7.30 am. It is way too early for even my head to function, it’s a long way ahead for the tummy. I end up going for the deed at work mostly, after making sure that all the stalls are empty. I am not a big coffee drinker except an occasional iced coffee or well, free coffee in office(which is disgusting by an unanimous opinion by people). But I have discovered the potency of just 2-3 sips of hot coffee or green tea. That’s all I need. The flip side? Since 3 weeks, my weekends at home have been extremely disappointing. I hope I am not getting addicted. Drink more water, PB!!
I haven’t even mentioned about the dog yet. Moony’s sessions are just funny. First, in order to avoid making the surroundings dirty, we carry a newspaper page with us. Now in USA, you get baggies with which you scoop the poop up, and I have done that for my old roommate’s dog. But I feel it just leads to landfill and my mom is more worried about the cost bit. So newspaper works better. Now as soon as Moony squats and gets into the position, my mom quickly put the paper right under him. She just has to pick up the paper after, ball it up and put it into trash. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Our day is spent trying to dissect the quantity and the quality of his poop. My father claims that he can even read Moony’s facial expression to figure out how satisfied he was with the outcome. I am told about all this even on Skype. Sometimes he doesn’t seem too happy with his business, so we know that an extra trip outside is going to happen. Sometimes we know he needs to eat his bit of grass to calm the sounds from his tummy. As he is getting older, we see all signs of an older grandpa in him. His tummy is much weaker now. You can hear his tummy making gurgling sounds a lot of times. He is turning into Mr. Stinkaroo as well.
We are strange people with stranger toilet habits. One thing that I totally miss about my half an hour on the pot in India, is reading my Pune Times or Pune Mirror. Such was our level of dedication that my dad had installed a makeshift rack to put the newspaper. US weekly just doesn’t cut it. During exam times, I used to sneak in my Nancy Drews and other books. It was the only place where my mom wouldn’t suspect me of any funny business. Although the Indian loos in the old houses would screw my knees. I do not recommend squatting for 30 min straight.
Squatting reminds me that it is supposed to be the best position. So, Shawn and I ordered three of these things called the Squatty Potty, One for each of us and I actually took one to India to gift my parents. It was quite appreciated. 😀