I Know Your Secret

There is something I know about every single one of you that haunts me, just a little bit. Some of you have admitted this fact to me, with or without your shame present. Others I simply know from the looks on your faces or your body language. For many of you it is simply a guess, but I believe it is a good one and the data is on my side.

Every. Single. One. of you reads this blog while pooping.

I know. When I began this endeavor I pictured it as a spiritual journey that you would take with me. You would get the new blog post, light some candles, burn some sage, and read it while holding on to your emotional support turtle and alternatively crying and laughing.

What I quickly realized though was that I cannot write in a large enough volume that warrants you lighting candles and burning sage for each post. The fire hazard alone means you are only going to do that for the longest of posts and I can only write one of those occasionally. Most of my posts come in at a solid 3-5 minute read, depending on your reading speed and how often you look up from your phone/computer and go "Wow. This girl really gets me." Alternatively you can also look up from your computer and go "This has inspired me to change my life" or "I really should find out more about Panda Sex."

But a 3-5 minute read has a darker, scarier side. It is the exact perfect read to poop to. Long enough that you have enough time to really clear your bowels and short enough that you don't end up staying on the toilet until the seat is imprinted on your lower region.

In all honesty, I think I am doing important work for Klal Yisrael. Many of our traditions make pooping difficult. Seders. Chulent. Intermittent Fasting. Dancing the Horah. And I am honored, no, humbled to be part of the journey that concludes these traditions.

It may be different than I expected, pouring my soul out and knowing that each of you think "Great! Time to poop!" and read about my darkest feelings (JK THIS IS NO WHERE CLOSE TO THE DARKEST IT GETS) on the toilet.

But there is an intimacy we are building, dear reader. I expose my soul, and then I hand it to you, and you take it into the bathroom and use it to help you in a necessary ritual in which perhaps not even your closest confidants have ever joined you. Husbands and wives go to the bedroom together but the bathroom? That is even more intimate.

And the Archer is there with you.

So, my dear readers, I know. I know the journey we enjoy together. I hope it is a smooth journey for all of you and that you are able to really concentrate on my writing, rather than having to focus on anything else going on too closely. I hope that you bought yourself cushy toilet paper, the one thing it is IMPERATIVE. to always splurge on. I hope you wash your hands afterwards and clean your phone screens occasionally.

And I hope that even if I am your toilet companion, that we have both gained something from this journey.

No wait, I've gained, you've lost.

Hopefully.