Sex courses through all of our bodies. It’s that nauseous pleasure you feel, hidden inbetween two plump breasts, or in the sweat trickling down a muscular thigh. We all feel it, yet up until recently, most would prefer to shove it down, keep it secret. You shouldnt talk about that sort of thing. But now, like as we listen sexy red rap about being came on on the radio, and stuff like that, we accept sex as a natural part of life.
Thats why its strange to me that theres no radio songs abour pooping. Like sex, pooping is a deeply bodily and often cathartic expirience. Yet, when i say i have to go poop, or i just had the best poop, some prissy girl will say “you couldve just said you were usinf thr bathroom.” Their desire to keep pooping vague and secretive reminds me of parents in the 17th century, forbdinng their child from asking about the tingling sensations in their penises and vaginas. And back then, that silenfe would lead to unprotected sex, and the subsequent botched abortions. Now, obviously not talkinf about pooping wont end up getting young women killed, but it does supress our natural desires for bodily release. If we teach the young to be quiet about poop, theyll turn on themselves, thinking wn essential part of them is unbeautiful. And sure, poop is smelly and looks weird, but its not like semen is so delicious, or genetalia isnt strange in shape. So, fuck, im not sure what will happen, but with 2025 wrapping up, my resolution is to accept my body and its functions, to revel in its ability to destroy what enters it, and expel it as something completely new. Our bodies are magical, my stoumach a mage or wizard or dragon, but one which i refuse to lock away in a medival tower.