The first time it happened was about 10 years ago. I was at a conference and went to the loo during the coffee break. I'd poo'd myself. Horrified, mortified, I cleaned myself up, dropped the pants into the sanitary towel bin and went back in with no pants under my trousers. I think one of the most upsetting things was that I'd had no idea it had happened.
It happened again, not daily, but often enough for me to start taking spare pants with me, and wet wipes. thank god for wet wipes. then its sort of gradually stopped, probably because I took up pilates. Once at the doctor I sort of tried to mention it in a roundabout way but she didn't pick up on it and I couldn't bring myself to actually say what was happening to me.
And I learned to live with it as it gradually came back. Luckily my lifestyle doesn't involve wearing flimsy or stylish clothes, I can wear jeans and things. I couldn't bring myself to mention it to anybody. Absolutely nobody, not my best friend, not my mother (but that's not surprising, i don't tell her anything), not my doctor, not anybody. I had no idea what caused it, or when it would strike. It was embarassing and humiliating and did absolutely nothing for my self-esteem. It felt like I was the only person in the world with this. One day I asked my friend and fount of all knowledge, google, for advice, and found nothing of any help (including on the official websites) - it seemed that other people did suffer from it but nothing could be done and it didn't give any useful information about what causes it.
So i suffered in silence.
There, I've said it. That was hard. Its taken me weeks to even write it here, totally anonymously.
