I have had a penchant for loving poop since a very young age. My mom used to tell me stories of me and my poopy adventures. When I was between 2 and 3 years old, I took a big dump in my diaper. I guess I was curious about what new treasures I felt against my butt, so I took off my diaper and examined the creamy brown goodness in it. I put it in my hair, I put it in my clothes. I also rubbed it into the carpet and stuck it in my toys and wiped it along the walls and cabinets. But that wasn’t enough, so I also ate it. I don’t remember what it tasted like, but it must have been good because I kept eating it until my mom found me (this was in the 70s. Being an unattended child for a few minutes was okay back then!). She said it took hours to get the poop off and out of everything. I’m sure I hugged her when I still had poop all over me.