Bathroom Horror Stories from People with Food Sensitivities
Has eating out at a restaurant or going to a friend’s house become a stressful event? Imagine needing to know where the closest bathroom is at all times. Imagine an uncontrollable urge causing a humiliating accident. One of the many symptoms of congenital sucrase-isomaltase deficiency (CSID) is a severe and urgent need to have a bowel movement.
So how does one handle this kind of situation? One tip is to keep an emergency bathroom kit on hand. Although the kit is specific to an individual’s needs, it should contain a change or two of underclothes, wet wipes, soap, and disposable bags to place soiled clothing in. This kit can also contain some cleaning items if you need to clean up after an episode of explosive diarrhea when at someone else’s house.
Managing gas is another issue for someone with CSID. Although it is a natural process and everyone does it, farting in public still elicits the “church giggles” and frowny faces. Food intolerances can worsen the smell of gas. One solution is to drink lots of water. Next, digestion begins in the mouth, so chewing food thoroughly helps aid your digestive system in breaking down your food.
Everyone has an embarrassing bathroom story. Whether it’s smelly gas in public or explosive diarrhea at your boyfriend’s house, it’s usually something so horrific it still makes you cringe to think about it. Hopefully, once you are far enough away from the “incident,” you can laugh at what happened.
Halloween was never my favorite holiday. I have sucrose intolerance, which means I can’t digest simple sugar. Sucrose and I do not get along in ANY way, shape or form. Sugar is my worst nightmare.
Last year, I took my kids to a neighborhood Halloween party. The party was fun, but the pumpkin punch was better. Before I knew it, one drink became two, and two easily became three, and five little pumpkin drinks rolled out of sight. Suddenly, I felt that dreaded gurgling in my stomach. Too much sugar. The exorcism was beginning.
I ran up the stairs thinking I could sneak into the far bathroom without anyone noticing. It was difficult to find with the kids playing hide and seek, but I made it. What a relief when I shut the door in the nick of time. I was safe to do my business.
To my horror, a tiny voice cried out, “Eww, that stinks!” Little did I know that Gretchen Smith’s perfect hiding spot was also in my escape room. She was right behind the shower curtain the whole time. I flushed the toilet and darted out of there.
I felt horrible when I found out the toilet had clogged. I felt even worse hearing Gretchen took the fall.
– Anonymous, 40, New Jersey
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If you’re experiencing gas and bloating, diarrhea, or constipation, this quiz may help determine the presence of sucrose intolerance.
My love-hate relationship with candy never seems to change. I have always adored candy – the shapes, the colors, the variety – and I love the effect and transformation candy has on others: watching crying children’s mood change the moment a piece of chocolate is placed in their hand, or seeing my friends salivate at the first bite of a decadent, chocolate-fudge cake. Unfortunately for me, the transformation is an entirely different experience. My body sucks at digesting sugar. Quite frankly, candy hates me.
Take Halloween for example. I love Halloween – the costumes, the parties, and the scariness – all of it. The only thing I hate is that candy is off-limits. If I have candy, even a bite-sized Kit Kat, my bowels conjure up the worst contortions and cramping. But I have to try it every year to see if my candy curse has been broken. Every year my body puts up a fight.
And so my tale begins. This past Halloween was no different. One second, I’m ripping up the dance floor with my friends. I’m crushing it in my banging cat costume. The next, I let my guard down for a moment and eat a Tootsie Roll. A fatal mistake. With catlike speed, I dashed off the dance floor, beelining it to the nearest bathroom. The candy had struck with a vengeance.
After about a 10-minute battle, I finally experienced relief. I left the bathroom and victoriously moonwalked back onto the dance floor. Halfway into my killer moves, everyone started filming me on their phones. I was on top of my game. I stood up on a table and started doing the Thriller dance. Everyone laughed and cheered. I was so alive.
The next morning, I saw all their videos on Snapchat and Instagram. That’s when I realized why they were actually filming me. I had toilet paper hanging out of my costume the entire time. #bathroomscaries
– Anonymous, 21, California
Crappy First Date
I was meeting him in real life for the first time; my first online-to-real-life experience. I let him choose the restaurant but decided I would meet him there. I wanted to get a look at the menu and check out the bathroom situation. When I try a new place, sometimes I have horrible stomach issues like foul, audible gas and truly explosive diarrhea. Totally unsexy, I know. Since I don’t know what the trigger is, I never know what will set me off.
To my horror, he was already there when I arrived! And, he had taken the liberty of ordering an appetizer for us to share and a drink for me. As I sat there looking at the greasy, fried ravioli with marinara and a 16-ounce hard cider, I froze. He looked so proud of himself for taking care of things for us, I ate and drank like the perfect date.
He was engaging and interested in everything I had to say. We flirted and smiled effortlessly at one another from across the table. But my stomach was beginning to twitch and gurgle, and I knew immediately what was happening. No way was I going to say anything about this on our first date! I tried to laugh and smile while holding my aching belly. The longer I waited, the worse I felt. And suddenly, I couldn’t wait any longer.
Without a word, I rushed away from the table. I barely made it to the bathroom before exploding ferociously into the toilet. I swear they could have heard me in the kitchen. I had only just made it back to the table, looking sweaty and flustered, when I had to excuse myself again. Over the next 30 minutes, I was in the bathroom 20 times. I mean, the seat was still warm!
When I came back the last time, he had paid the bill and was gone. Humiliated and embarrassed, I texted and thanked him for the date. I never heard from him again. Ghosted and blocked on the dating app. Note to self, no food on the first date.
– Anonymous, 31, Florida
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