Bad Surf

The start of the week. As ever I have the first of my twice weekly gym sessions in my quest to shave off the baby weight from the birth of the little boom. My weekend hangover was just a distant memory and I felt quite energetic.

I always prefer to go early in the morning as it gets the workout out of the way and then the rest of the day it's not hanging over my head.

So, at the crack of dawn, I found myself clocking into my budget gym. As I got in the door though, I felt a pang in my undercarriage.

Bugger, it looked like my morning poo was a tad early?

I wondered if I would be able to hold it in till after my workout but I felt another pang as if a small but incredibly dense koala bear was pushing at my rear door.

Damn it, there ain't no arguing with the morning poo. I dumped my bag in a locker and headed off to the singular toilet. That's right, my gym is so cheap it only has one poo repository for men. Shameful.

I got in and closed the door and prepared myself to sit down and let nature take her lovely course.

Except there was something on the toilet seat.

Something oily and viscous.

Something slightly smeggy and off-white in colour.

It was spunk.

No, I didn't take a sample and go and confirm my suspicions via the lab. I just knew instantly that it was jizzum and that the toilet seat was covered in it.

I mean, covered. Like an elephant had just shot its massive bolt all over the place.

I made a face as if a man had just spunked on the toilet seat I wanted to sit on. Yech, I put a hand on the door and readied myself to leave. No way was I going near that.

Something colossal shifted inside me, like an iceberg calving from an ice shelf. Then something rumbled.

Oh oh. The morning poo was not for being delayed.

I paced back and forth in the small space clenching my small but adorable buttocks.

What to do? What to do?

Something inside me spasmed and my legs trembled like jelly.

Oh lord no, I had to go. I had to go now.

I grabbed a gigantic fistful of toilet paper and with a face worthy of a cat eating prunes mopped up the white oily man slick on the seat.

Is this what I have been reduced to? Wiping another man's jizzum off a toilet seat? I mean who even does that? Who shakes the pork tambourine in the gym toilet early in the morning?

I grunted in disgust.

Time to have a serious think about my choice of budget gym.