Today I realized the upstairs bathroom – which I consider “my”
bathroom since I shit up there and Manfriend shits downstairs– has a
serious flaw in that the toilet is across the room from the sink. I can't believe I didn't ask myself this sooner, but…what do I do if I have to shomit??
It's been a long time since I've lived without a sink-adjacent toilet, and this concerns me. I’m hesitant to yak into the bathtub, and I have always had an aversion to puking into a garbage can or any other container that I would then need to clean because cleaning up vomit will only make me puke more. It is therefore imperative that I have a disposal plan that is reliable and efficient. The need to shomit has thankfully not been an issue this past year, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be prepared. In a pinch, I could always attempt to puke between my legs and into the toilet, but this is a tricky move and not optimal due to the limited drop zone.
The first time I ever shomitted was pre-diagnosis, just a few weeks before my first hospitalization. I was twelve years old and I was remarkably quick-thinking when facing the realization that I was about to have two emergency exits operating at once. I wasn’t far from the sink, but I was a newbie and too afraid to lift my butt for the reach. Instead I threw open the cabinet beneath the sink, dumped out a sack of my mom’s maxi pads and hurled into the plastic bag. This became standard operating procedure going forward.
The first time I ran up there with the understanding that I was about to shomit I hurled bile into the sink while simultaneously slamming and locking the door behind me, undoing my pants, flipping the toilet lid up with one foot, spinning and landing side-saddle to finishing business without spilling a drop. Hands down the best dance move this untrained white lady has ever pulled off. (Those that know me are aware of my long held belief that untrained white persons should not attempt to dance.)
There truly is an art to shomitting. Part of it is a matter of balance and timing, but ultimately it comes down to knowing your own body. Unfortunately this knowledge is usually gleaned by learning the “hard way” but you do eventually get a better read on when your clench is about to lose its hold and when your esophageal sphincter is ready to blow. Hearing what your body is saying will help your shomit technique immensely.
It's been a long time since I've lived without a sink-adjacent toilet, and this concerns me. I’m hesitant to yak into the bathtub, and I have always had an aversion to puking into a garbage can or any other container that I would then need to clean because cleaning up vomit will only make me puke more. It is therefore imperative that I have a disposal plan that is reliable and efficient. The need to shomit has thankfully not been an issue this past year, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be prepared. In a pinch, I could always attempt to puke between my legs and into the toilet, but this is a tricky move and not optimal due to the limited drop zone.
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| It is inadvisable for beginners to attempt this maneuver |
The first time I ever shomitted was pre-diagnosis, just a few weeks before my first hospitalization. I was twelve years old and I was remarkably quick-thinking when facing the realization that I was about to have two emergency exits operating at once. I wasn’t far from the sink, but I was a newbie and too afraid to lift my butt for the reach. Instead I threw open the cabinet beneath the sink, dumped out a sack of my mom’s maxi pads and hurled into the plastic bag. This became standard operating procedure going forward.
Teachable Moment: One time I lost my grip on my vomit bag and it spilled on the bathroom floor and my dad yelled at me because it was gross and frustrating, but it hurt my feelings and I held a grudge for a really long time after that. So don't yell at a sick kid if they drop their puke bag, okay?In 2010 I experienced my worst flare-up since my initial diagnosis, and during this time I developed shomitting moves that would qualify me for the American Ballet Company. At the time I was working at an office with two floors. My cubicle was on the lower floor, with two private bathrooms tragically placed next to two of my higher-ups’ offices and adjacent to my own work area. Even with the water running I could hear my co-workers talking and typing and it only stood to reason that they, in turn, could hear my trumpeting ass and muffled gagging. So, whenever possible, I would dash up to the second floor to the (almost) always empty bathroom. This particular bathroom appealed to me because the noise from the neighboring server room provided ample aural cover and was in no proximity to anyone’s office. I could sometimes hear folks in the kitchen but usually they’d be making coffee and the rattle of the machine would only add to the din.
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Order my instructional pamphlet and you, too, can be an expert at the shomit two-step!
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The first time I ran up there with the understanding that I was about to shomit I hurled bile into the sink while simultaneously slamming and locking the door behind me, undoing my pants, flipping the toilet lid up with one foot, spinning and landing side-saddle to finishing business without spilling a drop. Hands down the best dance move this untrained white lady has ever pulled off. (Those that know me are aware of my long held belief that untrained white persons should not attempt to dance.)
There truly is an art to shomitting. Part of it is a matter of balance and timing, but ultimately it comes down to knowing your own body. Unfortunately this knowledge is usually gleaned by learning the “hard way” but you do eventually get a better read on when your clench is about to lose its hold and when your esophageal sphincter is ready to blow. Hearing what your body is saying will help your shomit technique immensely.
