In my first post, Why I Pooed My Pants,I stated that I didn’t deliberately go in my pants. For the most part this is quite true, butthere was one occasion when I did poo myself on purpose, although, as you willsee, I was not soiling a pair of clean pants.
I was 8 when this happened and it took place at thehome of my maternal grandmother, the only grandparent I ever knew. She lived in a Victorian terraced house,which has since been converted. Therewas no bathroom and only an outside toilet.The fairly small back garden had no grass, few flowers and mostlyconsisted of paths leading to the toilet and the outside gate, and areas ofsoil and rock. I was playing alone inthis garden when I got the familiar feeling in my underwear that told me thatmy pants were messy. I ignored it andcarried on playing. Even if I had wantedto go back inside the house where my mother and grandmother were talking Iwould not now do so, as this would result in my accident being quicklydiscovered.
 |
| I was able to play happily on my own for hours -which was a good thing when I wasmessy and smelly! |
Fortunately, I could always entertain myself, anddid not need toys or other children or adults to have a fun time playing. I had a good imagination and don’t everremember being bored during the whole of my childhood, I could always findsomething to do. I loved the long summerholiday from school and did not need my parents to spend large amounts of timeor money to keep me entertained.
While I was playing I felt the need to poo again. I was only a few metres from the toilet, butdid not think for one second of using it.I was already in a crouching position when I felt it, but this time Ididn’t withhold, as I still often did when I was away from home. Instead I pushed and, for the first time inmy life, I pooed in my pants on purpose.It was a good thing there was no-one in the next garden looking over, orthey would have seen a strange sight, an 8 year old boy crouching down anddeliberately messing himself. For the first time ever I actually felt the pooleaving my bottom and entering my underwear.I must have known that I was being very naughty doing this, but I did itanyway. When I had finished I resumedplaying in my freshly soiled pants.
It must have been a few days since I had used thetoilet because shortly afterwards I felt that I had to go again. I crouched down and added to the waste in myunderwear. In the same way that you maysay that a baby has filled his nappy, some parents refer to a child who hassoiled himself as having ‘filled his pants’.It was not a phrase that was usually used in my house, but it would havebeen particularly apt on this day. Indeed, I was treating my underwear like it was a nappy. Itwas a good job that I did not also need a wee that afternoon or I probablywould have just done that in my pants as well and created an even more horrendousmess.
Not surprisingly, when I was called into the housemy mother was quickly alerted to what I had done. She was used to discovering that her son had pooedhimself, but even she was shocked by how badly I stank. When she looked inside my pants and found out how much I'd pooed in them and how messy I was she was furious with me.
With no bathroom, no hot running water and no sparepants, changing me at my grandmother’s home would have been nearlyimpossible. Instead I had to endure anhumiliating half-hour bus ride home in my soiled pants, absolutely reeking ofpoo. Looking back, I’m surprised thedriver allowed such a stinky child on his bus.We sat near the front, which meant that everyone who got on smelt me,and my mother reprimanded me throughout the journey.
 |
| Aged 8, I deliberately pooed my pants for the first time in my life, behaving as if I was wearing a nappy. |
Cleaning me up that day was going to be no easytask and my mother decided that I would need a bath. ‘How do you expect me to get these clean?’she asked me, holding up my pants in front of me. We were not a rich family and supermarketsdid not sell cheap underwear in those days, so throwing out my pants everytimeI soiled them was not an option. Seeingmy underwear caked in my poo really brought home to me just what I haddone. I sat in the tub feeling ashamedof myself.
I know I behaved badly that day, and I thoroughlydeserved the scolding I received. Whydid I do it? One mother on Mumsnet whose9 year old son always withheld his poo at school said that if he came home in dirtyunderwear he would sometimes just do the rest in his pants. He knew he would be moaned at for soilinghimself anyway, so it was a case of ‘in for the penny, in for the pound.’ Maybe that was the way I was thinking thatafternoon. Or perhaps I disliked thethought of using the toilet when I already had a pooey bottom, and of pulling downmy messy pants and pulling them back up again.But I suspect that the real reason was that it just seemed the easything to do at the time. Once again, Idid not think of the consequences of my actions.
It has not been easy to write about this, as it isone of my most painful memories of my childhood, certainly the worst that was aresult of my soiling habit. The onlygood thing that came out of it was that I was never tempted to do it again.
