Privacy Settings

I had a great birthday weekend filled with awesome things I could blog about:

I did the 2nd Annual For Paws & Wright Naturals Family 5k Run/Walk.


0:33:00 time. Pretty good considering I haven’t done road race in months and Jay was pushing 30lbs of kid and 30lbs of stroller.

Went apple picking with Jay and X at Dressel Farms.

photo 1

This kid picked nearly 10 POUNDS of apples

Went to the Hudson Valley Garlic Festival with my family.

Garlic Doughnut. You know you want it.

Garlic Doughnut. You know you want it.

And had a Mallomar and Garlic Chocolate Chip Cookie faux birthday cake at my parents’ house.

Please don't judge my family.

Please don’t judge my family.

But my brain doesn’t seem to want to post about any of these things. Instead, it wants to focus on my time in the port-o-potty at the Garlic Festival. Specifically, it wants to dwell on the fact that I used a port-o-potty when there was a perfectly good real bathroom not 20 feet away.

Let me start with a little background into me. I hated public bathrooms and latrines as a child. I refused to use them. I’ve been known to pee before leaving the house on Friday for a Girl Scout Camping trip and not go again until Sunday evening when I got back home. There were only a select few friends whose bathrooms I would use. I was so ridiculous that one of my mother’s favorite stories about my childhood is regarding the bathroom. I told my teacher that I had to potty real bad but refused to go when she brought me to the girls’ room. They even brought in one of the nuns to try to convince me to go.

Nothing screams comfort and relaxation like Sister Jude staring you down. Image from the Huffington Post

So my mom had to drag herself and my newborn little brother down to Our Lady of Creepy Nuns Solace School to bring me home so I could pee.

While I couldn’t pee in the bathroom, I could change for gym class there. In fact, it was the only place I’d change. I only barely passed gym because of all the times I couldn’t change because the bathroom stalls were occupied.

Once I went to college and had to share a bathroom with 150 other women, I got over the public restroom thing. Still couldn’t go while someone else was there and definitely still couldn’t use a port-o-potty. And I definitely couldn’t change in front of my roommates no matter how long we lived together.

Then OCRs came into my life. They totally reset your inner privacy settings. Once you’ve rolled in the mud where 8000 people have already rolled and had at least half of those people grab your ass to shove you over a wall, you change a bit.

Since becoming a mud runner, I:

  • Have grabbed the boobs of another woman. She wanted muddy hand prints and I obliged.
  • Used port-o-potties
  • Have stayed in condos with complete strangers
  • Used port-o-potties that lack toilet paper. Sorry, but I’m about to dive into a New Jersey retention pond. Do you really think anyone notices?
  • Shared my water bottles/camelbaks with complete strangers. Germs? We both just cut our backs on the same barbed wire. We’ve shared plenty already.
  • Changed my clothes in the middle of parking lots, in mixed company, no less. I do have a changing tent in the back of the car, but sometimes it’s just more trouble then it’s worth.

So when the line at the real bathroom at the Garlic Festival was 3 people deep but there were half a dozen empty port-o-potties, I absolutely jumped off the line and into the green closet filled with poo and blue sanitizer. There was even a port-o-sink setup AND ample toilet paper.

What strange things do you find yourself doing since doing OCRs?


3 thoughts on “Privacy Settings

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