Can’t Decide Whether Staring At Myself In The Mirror While Shitting Was An Enlightening Or Horrific Experience

So there I am at my buddys house yesterday when my stomach starts doing hula hoops around my ass. Like clockwork, every Monday around noon for me is usually the right time when the weekend of binge drinking and random late night drunk foods (Captain and Chipolte anyone?) reenact the Battle of the Bulge in my colon. I excuse myself from the 3rd consecutive Sportscenter to the downstairs bathroom to give the troops the honorary discharge they deserve.

Never been there before, so I go through my normal pregame and scout the facilities. First things first, gotta remove the shirt. If you’re taking a shit with your shirt on when you legitimately have a private enough setting where you can take it off you are playing checkers in life while the rest of the world is playing chess. Free as a bird baby, no distractions. I’ll George Constanza it every day of the week. The next step is to make sure there’s toliet paper, no piss on the seat and that the toliet is flushed – because God help me if I ever have to defecate into something that is dirty in the first place. This is America. If I have to shit on top of a floater that’s already claimed residence I might as well be squatting over a hole in India trying to avoid the plague. Everything looked kosher and I proceeded with my routine of knocking out about 5-6 rounds of Words With Friends and creeping on 4th degree separation of smokes of friends on Facebook for about 10 min till the legs go numb.

But then I see it. A mirror directly in front of me on top of the sink. It took me legitimately 30 seconds to realize that I was staring at myself mid shat. Never experienced it before let alone ever thought of it. For the first time in my life I didn’t know what to think. Like, this isn’t normal right? Why the fuck is there a mirror there so you can watch yourself take a shit? Does he enjoy looking at himself pinching one out? Is it just a coincidence and nobody else has even noticed? Am I being punked? So many questions. It honestly confused me to the core. 50% of me thought that having a conversation with myself mid shit was amazing while the other half wanted to turn around and pull an AC Slater because looking into my eyes the vulnerable moment while my asshole is being stretched isn’t what I call my forte. Seriously, why was it there?