Tuesday, 16 August 2016


In my first post, Why I Pooed My Pants, I stated that I didn’t deliberately go in my pants.  For the most part this is quite true, but there was one occasion when I did poo myself on purpose, although, as you will see, I was not soiling a pair of clean pants.
I was 8 when this happened and it took place at the home of my maternal grandmother, the only grandparent I ever knew.  She lived in a Victorian terraced house, which has since been converted.  There was no bathroom and only an outside toilet.  The fairly small back garden had no grass, few flowers and mostly consisted of paths leading to the toilet and the outside gate, and areas of soil and rock.  I was playing alone in this garden when I got the familiar feeling in my underwear that told me that my pants were messy.  I ignored it and carried on playing.  Even if I had wanted to go back inside the house where my mother and grandmother were talking I would not now do so, as this would result in my accident being quickly discovered.

I was able to play happily on my own
for hours - which was a good thing
when I was messy and smelly!
Fortunately, I could always entertain myself, and did not need toys or other children or adults to have a fun time playing.  I had a good imagination and don’t ever remember being bored during the whole of my childhood, I could always find something to do.  I loved the long summer holiday from school and did not need my parents to spend large amounts of time or money to keep me entertained.

While I was playing I felt the need to poo again.  I was only a few metres from the toilet, but did not think for one second of using it.  I was already in a crouching position when I felt it, but this time I didn’t withhold, as I still often did when I was away from home.  Instead I pushed and, for the first time in my life, I pooed in my pants on purpose.  It was a good thing there was no-one in the next garden looking over, or they would have seen a strange sight, an 8 year old boy crouching down and deliberately messing himself. For the first time ever I actually felt the poo leaving my bottom and entering my underwear.  I must have known that I was being very naughty doing this, but I did it anyway.  When I had finished I resumed playing in my freshly soiled pants.

It must have been a few days since I had used the toilet because shortly afterwards I felt that I had to go again.  I crouched down and added to the waste in my underwear.  In the same way that you may say that a baby has filled his nappy, some parents refer to a child who has soiled himself as having ‘filled his pants’.  It was not a phrase that was usually used in my house, but it would have been particularly apt on this day.  Indeed, I was treating my underwear like it was a nappy.  It was a good job that I did not also need a wee that afternoon or I probably would have just done that in my pants as well and created an even more horrendous mess.

Not surprisingly, when I was called into the house my mother was quickly alerted to what I had done.  She was used to discovering that her son had pooed himself, but even she was shocked by how badly I stank.  When she looked inside my pants and found out how much I'd pooed in them and how messy I was she was furious with me.

With no bathroom, no hot running water and no spare pants, changing me at my grandmother’s home would have been nearly impossible.  Instead I had to endure an humiliating half-hour bus ride home in my soiled pants, absolutely reeking of poo.  Looking back, I’m surprised the driver allowed such a stinky child on his bus.  We sat near the front, which meant that everyone who got on smelt me, and my mother reprimanded me throughout the journey.

Aged 8, I deliberately pooed my pants
for the first time in my life, behaving
as if I was wearing a nappy.
Cleaning me up that day was going to be no easy task and my mother decided that I would need a bath.  ‘How do you expect me to get these clean?’ she asked me, holding up my pants in front of me.  We were not a rich family and supermarkets did not sell cheap underwear in those days, so throwing out my pants everytime I soiled them was not an option.  Seeing my underwear caked in my poo really brought home to me just what I had done.  I sat in the tub feeling ashamed of myself.

I know I behaved badly that day, and I thoroughly deserved the scolding I received.  Why did I do it?  One mother on Mumsnet whose 9 year old son always withheld his poo at school said that if he came home in dirty underwear he would sometimes just do the rest in his pants.  He knew he would be moaned at for soiling himself anyway, so it was a case of ‘in for the penny, in for the pound.’  Maybe that was the way I was thinking that afternoon.  Or perhaps I disliked the thought of using the toilet when I already had a pooey bottom, and of pulling down my messy pants and pulling them back up again.  But I suspect that the real reason was that it just seemed the easy thing to do at the time.  Once again, I did not think of the consequences of my actions.

It has not been easy to write about this, as it is one of my most painful memories of my childhood, certainly the worst that was a result of my soiling habit.  The only good thing that came out of it was that I was never tempted to do it again.


  1. Interesting.. I too could be happy playing alone with nothing. I also had an amazing imagination. I think kids with encopresis often have great imaginations maybe connected.

    I read a great book called ADD The Edison Gene. Many of the kids that have had Encopresis also have ADD or ADHD. This book talks about instead of it being a disorder it's a smart gene. I totally agree with what was said in this book. We were made to feel disordered when maybe we are not at all disordered. Are we really the ones that are the thinkers in society?

    1. Yes, I had a vivid imagination as a child and could turn any space into a ship, a castle, a rocket or an alien planet, for example, and enjoy an exciting adventure! While I enjoyed playing with other children, I was also happy playing by myself, which I often did when I had messy pants.

      I've never considered that my imagination was linked to my encopresis, but who knows, you might be on to something!

    2. James did ever get your nose rubbed in it

    3. No, I'm glad to say that I did not, and I hope that doesn't happen to any child. You can psychologically harm a child by doing something like that.

  2. I must have been more imaginative then most because I could play alone for hours without getting board. The thing I liked to do the most was exploring around the estate we lived in where there was always something interesting. That usually meant being a far distance from my house so when it came to doing number 2 I would just do it in my underwear rather that stop exploring or doing whatever I was doing. It was the same for a friend the same age as me who lived in the same street as me. We would usually tell each other if we needed to go but neither of us ever wanted to go home because that usually meant the end of exploring. Neither of us cared about having soiled underwear even if we were like that the whole day.

  3. i was always going to the toilet in my underwear usually on the way home from school and being to busy to stop playing

    1. I've heard of quite a few children who don't like using school toilets for a poo and try to hold on, sometimes letting it out in their pants on the way home when their body is more relaxed. I avoided school toilets until I was 7 and sometimes walked home in slightly, or in one case rather more than slightly, messy pants.

      Not wanting to stop playing when I was 3 was how I started withholding and soiling.

    2. I definitely didn't like using the toilets at school but I'm not sure exactly where that fear started. Something must have happened around that time or maybe it was just that starting school that triggered it. Either way it slowly got worse and by the time I was in my teens it was a full-blown phobia. If I couldn’t find somewhere private to go I just held it in even when I knew what was probably going to happen. When it did I just made an excuse and went home before anyone noticed, that worked until I was at a friend’s birthday party. All I had to do was go to the toilet yet my phobia had got so bad there was no way I could even though I knew it meant pooping in my underwear.