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An open letter to the life threatening butthole itch I felt on the way to class

I would consider myself to be a hygienic person. I wash my hands frequently, brush, floss, and mouthwash, I shampoo and wash my face, and when I shower I make sure that the water hits hole. I’ll spare you of the details but understand that my sphincter is squeaky clean, no doubt about it.


So imagine my betrayal when my butthole began to itch, a sensation only comparable to road rash from poorly crafted insulation taken from my grandmother’s attic, on my way to class.


If it was within the privacy of my own home, the issue would be resolved immediately. But on the way to class my only legitimate option is to simply power through. I think it’s honestly the closest I’ve ever come to dying. The two nights I spent in the ICU hooked up to machines for a double lung infection didn’t even come close.


I tried to improvise how to get this Portuguese Man O’ War out of my anus without digging it out myself. First was the crack-adjacent seam… after some time spent “readjusting” my pants, little was accomplished and the itch remained. The second method was the clench. Open, close, open, close. My reverse kegels seemed to neutralize it at first, but once again the itch returned.


Knowing that I did not have the time to perform and reverse a self induced anal prolapse, I was losing hope and losing it quickly. My anxiety, pain, and the life threatening reality of the situation caused me to start to begin to perspire intensely. And just like the miracle of nature, the Colorado River of my sweat eroded the Grand Canyon of my ass, clearing out the obstructions that were causing me so much pain.


Safe to say, I don’t ever want to feel what I felt during my walk between classes again. I don’t even want to think about it. I have since been extra diligent in my showering routine and started a crowdfunding campaign for a bidet and non-budget toilet paper to assist me in my recovery.


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