Poop Christmas or Who Said "I Love You" First

My husband and I are often asked how we met. It is quite funny, but not nearly as appetizing as the story of who said, "I love you" first. I feel that I must briefly explain the former prior to the latter since you'll get the flavor of our love story.

Cliff notes:

Mr. J saw me and was enamored. True story. He showed up at my office a couple times a week for various albeit ridiculous reasons and ask me the dumbest questions that have ever dripped from his lips. After three weeks of clearing his throat, flirting and embarrassing himself I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't quite brazen enough to call him and ask him out so I did what any modern day Jezebel does. I sent him a text. It went a little something like this, "So, are you going to ask me out or do I have to be the boy?"

We went out.

Cut to our first Christmas together two months later. We were in a tiny town in southern Arizona, just north of the Mexican border. There were 6,000 people living in the tiny mining town, tons of history and lots of tamales. It was my first extended visit with his extended family and it was going well, with the exception of one minor detail. It was also the first time Mr. J and I had the opportunity to be together for five straight days and I hadn't pooped in about four. There were hushed calls to my girlfriends.

"What do I do? Our hotel room is in an old building and the door to the bathroom doesn't shut all the way. When we're not at the hotel together we're at his Grandmother's house with all of his family members. I'm never alone for more than five minutes and I have to go so bad I can't fit into my low slung jeans."

Laughter and snorting met my ears through my cell phone.

"He knows you poop. Everybody poops. Just go."

"I can't! At this point I will explode. There is no way I can hide it any longer. I tried to go last night at a restaurant, but I'm so backed up that I needed more than the few minutes that it normally takes to pee. He would've known!"

More laughing.

"You just have to do it. Just poop. He won't stop liking you."

"He just may when he sees what I've got brewing. Oh my God. My stomach is killing me. Did you hear it? Oh, he's coming back. Ok, have to go. Call you later."

Christmas Eve was upon me and I was lying on my left side. I was trying to play the beguiling temptress, but my position was necessary. Mom always told me to lay on my left side when my stomach hurt and I was trying not to twist my face in discomfort. Mr. J had my fingers clasped in his own and I said something that caught him off guard. He stopped short, looked at me sweetly and declared, "I love you." I was pretty sure I loved him too, but wanted to say it when I knew it in my bones. I leaned forward, smiled shyly and kissed him passionately. He pulled me toward him and I winced as my stomach turned over and caught.

I opened one of many presents from my lover boy on Christmas Day at Granny's house. The room suddenly became quiet. I held the delicate white gold necklace in my hands and immediately knew that the declaration of love was truly sincere. I smiled, "Past, present and future. It is beautiful." I held my hair up as he fitted the clasp at the nape of my neck and held the three diamonds, each one larger than the other, in my hands. I was beaming.

Shortly after eating my third Christmas tamale, which is Mr. J's family tradition, I knew I was in trouble. The family planned to drive further into Arizona to open gifts with more aunts and uncles, but not before we were to head back to the hotel to "freshen up". I walked expectantly toward the room as my mind raced. I had to come up with a plan or just lay it all out on the line. Maybe he'd wait in the car. I was getting ready to suggest this idea when he suddenly announced that he had to check in with the hotel manager for some reason that I really didn't care about. This was my chance!

I was elated, relieved and about four pounds lighter in just a few minutes. I hoped to run outside and meet him. I planned what I would say, "Ok, I'm ready. Let's go back to your Grandma's and get everyone together!" I couldn't get that far, not with the toilet groaning and swirling at my feet. I could feel my face redden as I stared and whispered - begged, "No! Please. Please. Please go down. Please don't do this to me."

I heard the front door open and stood perfectly still hoping that if I didn't make a noise Mr. J would go away and never come back. No such luck.

"Oh my God! Ms. J! Oh my God! You stink!"

I ran to the bathroom door and pressed my body against it, "Um, so... could you do me a huge favor?"

"A Plunger? You need a plunger don't you? Did you clog the toilet? Oh my God! You clogged the toilet! Let me see. How big is that thing? It smells like a dead animal in here!"

I laughed until tears were streaming down my crimson face, "No, please! Stay out there."

I slammed my body against the door as he tried to open it.

"Let me see it! Is it a log? Oh my God. You smell horrible! You broke the toilet! Am I going to have to buy a new toilet? We might have to switch rooms if we can't get the smell out!"

"Please stop. I'm so embarrassed. Just get me a plunger."

I heard Mr. J open the door to the courtyard and yell into the ether, "My girlfriend clogged the toilet! My girlfriend broke your toilet! On Christmas Day!"

I heard a third voice, "You are embarrassing her. Stop that. I'll go get a plunger."

I cracked the door, "Who was that? Please tell me it was the manager."

Mr. J ran toward the door as I slammed it shut and held every ounce, pound, iota of cellulite and determination against it.

"Yes, it was the manager. Let me see!"

"No!"

The manager voice called from the courtyard, "Do you want me to take care of it sweetie?"

I could barely talk out of sheer humiliation, "No! I'll do it! Just give me the plunger!"

I cracked the door enough to see the plunger finding its way to my hands and forced my beloved's head out with a swift punch to his left ear.

Ten minutes later we were on our way back to Granny's house. When we arrived my hunk smiled mischeviously, "Guess what Ms. J did when we got back to the hotel?" I blanched and stared at him wide-eyed. He smiled at his curious family members, "She called all her friends and wished them a Merry Christmas." His mom looked at him sideways and suspiciously responded, "That was nice."

A few hours later we were visiting with everyone else in the entire world that was related to my future husband. They all stared at him strangely each and every time he asked them to guess what I did when we got back to the hotel and each time he responded, "She called all her friends and wished them a Merry Christmas," they looked at each other wondering what it is they were missing.

Mr. J's brother in law answered him after the fifth time, "You've been saying that all day. I know what she did! She clogged the toilet, didn't she?"

I was mortified as Mr. J's uncle comforted me by telling me that all the people in their family have large poops and that Mr. J's own sister sends them pictures of hers when they curl around the bottom of the bowl, "Wait, I think I still have it on my phone! I'll show you! It comes up when she calls me."

The trip back to granny's was very long. The brother in law kept up the topic on the hour long drive.

"Please don't break up with Mr. J. We all like you so much. We all poop. It is really no big deal. Don't be embarrassed."

I turned my back to Mr. J that night and laid on my right side, stomach fit as a fiddle, while he talked to my back, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

The next day I sat in Granny's kitchen and one tamale down it was time again. I had no more self-respect and so I pooped in her bathroom right off the kitchen and prayed it wouldn't stink. I almost got away with it. Almost.

I clogged Granny's toilet.

Mr. J laughed from his spot in the kitchen as he heard me plunging the disaster before me. I glared at him as I exited the bathroom and whispered, "What is wrong with the toilets in the town?"

He snortled, "You."

Two seconds later Granny pulled out a can of Lysol and sprayed down the kitchen and the bathroom, "Hooo weeee. Mr. J you stink!"

I caught him before he had a chance to respond, "Let her think it was you, motherfucker."

He laughed until his face was on the table and his eyes watered.

We got past the Poop Christmas, as it has been dubbed.

Oh, I still get teased, but it doesn't hold the same weight. The entire family watches my every move during the holidays and any glance in the direction of the bathroom is met with, "Do you have to poop? I put the plunger in there just in case. It is right next to the Lysol and the Wet Wipes."

I smile back, "I'm leaving the door open this time. Family is all about sharing."

Merry Christmas