Today I very nearly pooped myself.
Although this isn't about pooping myself. But first, some background:
I was 13,000 feet high on a mountain, feet strapped to a big wooden board and almost a complete vertical cliffside drop in front of me.
Actually, that was the second time I nearly pooped myself.
The first was walking along the snowy cliff on a one foot wide "path", mountain to my left and snowy cliff drop to the my right, snowboard in hand. It took me 15 minutes to get across the ridge, and every step I was stopping myself from pooping myself.
To spare you suspense, I never did poop myself, but almost pooping myself nearly killed me. And here is why:
I am super scared of heights. Correction, I am scared of the consequences of falling from them. Poop my pants, I'm going to start balling any second scared. When I tell my friends this they are always surprised because they can't tell. I'm a tough ole' bird, but I assure them that while my face is stoic, I am in a deadlocked battle with my bowels.
Yet I troop forward. I'm not fearless at all. I'm full of fear. I don't think anybody is actually fearless. We're all full of pants pooping fear. Nobody dies from being fearless, they die from doing things that cause them to almost poop their pants, stopping themselves from pooping, and trooping forward.
If they had actually pooped their pants, they probably wouldn't have done the task, they'd need a costume change- or, "brief" change I guess.
Pooping your pants would actually save you.
So when I die from some stupid, "death defying" activity (that obviously didn't defy correctly if I'm dead) I want you to tell everyone at my funeral that it wasn't out of lack of fear that I died, it was that I won the battle with my bowels- because if I had actually pooped my pants, I probably wouldn't have done whatever it was because I would have left to go change my underwear instead.