There is no greater joy than taking a s*** on your own toilet in your own home. It is a place where you can be completely vulnerable and exposed but in complete comfort. I always enjoyed waking up in the morning to a judgment-free zone, where I could take a s*** and didn’t care if it stank. But since my entrance into college, my personal porcelain throne has been ripped from my unwilling backside.
My feet yearn for the cold granite tile floor and sailor-themed shower curtain that my home provides. It is mandatory to wear shoes or at least socks whenever you go within the confines of a dormitory hall. Especially in a common bathroom that is shared by more than 30 women that don’t understand basic personal hygiene. Now when I sit down to contemplate life and let my body indulge in its favorite natural activity, I am interrupted by a puking sorority girl and the custodian that has to clean up her mess.
The fact that I have to close the stall door also rips away that intimate home feeling. There is no freedom to let your freak flag fly, watch who’s walking up and down the stairs and strike up a conversation with your sister mid-doo-doo. And even with the door closed, there is a looming fear of someone walking in and hearing and smelling what your body naturally produces a feeling that doesn’t exist at home. Even in the direst of circumstances, you have to look at yourself in the mirror before walking down the hall to take a s***. That messy hair and screwed up face won’t cut it if the hot guy from your BIO 340 class decides to walk out of his room.
The simplest pleasure in life is walking down the hallway of your home, barefoot, into your bathroom, with the door wide open, and doing as you please without a second thought. I urge you, students of Oswego State: when you get home at the end of this semester, before you even pet your dog or hug your parents: take your shoes off, throw your socks in the garbage, sprint into your bathroom with a giant toothy grin, and unleash those full bowels.