Just because I enjoy how it feels to take a dump does not mean I am weird

There are, in fact, many practical and not at all weird reasons why I enjoy dropping a deuce.

Firstly, consider how oddly satisfying it feels to suddenly lose a significant percentage of your body weight in the span of less than five minutes. One minute, you weigh 150 pounds;some grunting and heaving later, 143. That sort of speedy reduction in body mass is the stuff of legends and infomercials in other contexts, yet we pass it off as more or less unimpressive within the realm of going number two (assumedly because we do it so frequently). But really take a moment to consider how strange the actual act of dropping the Cosbys off at the swimming pool is -- short of hacking off a limb, there is no way to lose as large and heavy a part of yourself in as short an amount of time as shitting affords.

To be fair, however, I'm ignoring another prominent, incredibly important way the human body can expel a great deal of its cells within a relatively short span of time. I am referring, of course, to the act of giving birth. And while it may initially seem very, very strange to liken the acts of defecation and baby-ejecting, taking a dump is really the closest any man will ever get to experiencing the alternate pain and triumph of pushing a baby out of your unmentionables.

It is said that men tend to be immeasurably more violent than women due to birth envy: since we cannot create life within our own bodies, our jealousy prompts us to destroy life through wars, duels, and other forms of man-on-man violence. Were this true -- and for the purposes of my argument, I'm going to assume it is -- then it would help explain why men seem to take greater pleasure out of pooping than women do. After eating a hearty meal of something assumedly manly like steak or something, the man can slowly feel digestion turn into waste formation as the small, heavy, disgusting brown thing within him matures and, eventually, demands to be released from the womb of the lower intestine.

I'm actually grossing myself out a bit as I type this. I shall take a moment to compose myself, and would suggest you do the same.

Anyway, the man, pregnant with fecal matter, rushes to the toilet and pushes, pushes, pushes until finally ridding his body of that which grew inside him. He feels elation that it is no longer causing him discomfort, in the same way a woman is glad to be over the pains of having her vagina stretched to hilarious limits during the birthing process. The pain of taking a particularly heinous dump is nowhere near those of labor, of course, but again -- this is the closest men ever get to the feeling of birth, and so we value it more.

That intense, sometimes burning pain which accompanies every large bowel movement makes the release that much more satisfying. We suffer for minutes, fighting with our own sphincters, trying to rid ourselves of those nutrients which our bodies didn't absorb, and it fucking hurts. The effort it takes to completely expel such a movement can also be considerably unpleasant, leading to the unfortunate grunting and grimacing which accompanies most male trips to the toilet. In the end, though, all these irritations and pains to our sensitive areas suddenly disappear in the blink of an eye and the plonk of toilet water: we have exorcised our demon, and are now free of the pain it causes. 

This feeling of relief, of satisfaction, can be indescribable (depending on the size and velocity of the bowel movement). Upon experiencing the sheer triumph of removing a painful, heavy load from your body, I argue that you'd have to be weird not to enjoy that feeling.