Like many of us, my number 2s are conducted more comfortably on my own loo. On a public loo, or on somebody else’s, the requirement to number 2 needs to be extremely urgent.
Turtle heading is a lovely little phrase.
When we eat a nice pie, we chew and swallow. It moves down our oesophagus and into our stomach where it swills in acid. After a while, the pie’s loveliness moves into our small intestine where our body takes what it needs. Of that we don’t, on it moves through our large intestine to our anus. That sensation arises and we sit on the loo. Transit time, 6 to 8 hours.
Now, the anus is a sphincter and well known to us. It keeps our bums closed and we can control it more often than not.
When we sit on the loo, our brain tells our anus, “OPEN!” It does. We do what needs to be done and then continue with our day.
In contrast to the anus we all know and love, there is an additional anal sphincter that is a stranger to us. It’s set back someway and its purpose is to support our anus in its primary role of ridding.
When the waste of our pie arrives at our inner anus, it opens and lets a little bit into the void. Here, sensory cells work out the state of play and report to our brain. They say, “Hey! Poo! What you want to do?” or “We got gas down here!”
Our brain, being quite the boss, has a look at where we are, who we’re with, etcetera, and advises us accordingly. It whispers, “You need a shit but you’re not desperate enough to go on the train. We’ll wait.” or “It’s a fart. Might stink. Maybe wait until you pass that dog walker up ahead before squeezing it out. The hanging cloud, then, will be blamed on the dog.”
Until the green light, the waste of our pie is held at our inner anus.
When we’re ready and willing, most usually when we’re comfortable and chilling, our outer anus gets the “GO! GO! GO!” and flow.
It’s undeniable, the relief often felt is pleasurable.