I love pooping outside. One morning in Alaska, a humpback whale breached offshore just as I squatted with my pants around my ankles. Another morning, in Idaho, I watched hummingbirds sip nectar from ...
My mom used to call them “nature trips.” The vague, almost pleasant-sounding descriptor was meant to offset my childhood terror, but honestly, pooping outside was always anxiety-inducing. What if I ...
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