Potty Training

my first tru­ly per­son­al expe­ri­ence with antique fur­ni­ture was dur­ing pot­ty train­ing. my pot­ty chair was this tiny wood­en seat with a hole in it. inside the hole was a porce­lain cham­ber pot. in back of the seat was a lit­tle door which gave access to the cham­ber pot. it also had a pullover restraint/table that now reminds me of the safe­ty bars on roller­coast­ers. except in this case i’m rel­a­tive­ly sure the restraint was to keep me from escap­ing. some­thing i nev­er under­stood about my pot­ty chair, and to this day still do not under­stand com­plete­ly was the lit­tle flip-up penis-guard. it was basi­cal­ly a wood­en cod­piece. it is also the only thing keep­ing a pic­ture of me on my pot­ty chair from being x-rat­ed. i think i would rather have been exposed. at least then i would have had my dig­ni­ty.

even­tu­al­ly i made it to the stage where i learned to use the real toi­let. when i would go into the bath­room by myself i would strip off all of my clothes, do my busi­ness, and announce that i was fin­ished. once mom opened the door, i would scur­ry out bar­e­assed and run away. i get the feel­ing i made myself naked quite a bit as a child.

but now that i am a house­bro­ken adult, i can use the shit­ter like a nor­mal per­son.

i won­der what freud would say about all of this.

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