Some ideas for anyone who might find themselves in a situation where they pooped in Gwyneth Paltrow’s bed.
Last week, a blind item appeared in the celebrity-gossip newsletter Popbitch. “The story goes that a recent houseguest of Gwynnie’s catastrophically shat themselves in bed while staying there, then fled back to the city before they had to face the music.” Gwynnie, of course, is Gwyneth Paltrow. According to Popbitch, this little piece of scuttlebutt was winding its way through the Hamptons, and stories of “Ozempic-induced diarrhoea” (Popbitch is British) were all the rage this summer.
On Wednesday, the Daily Mail published what it claims is a more thorough report of the incident. It named names, but we are going to have some tact and leave them out of it. If you are in a way where you’re literally shitting the bed at a dear friend’s house and you can’t even tell them about it? I wish them the best!
Now, here’s what we will be discussing: What is the proper decorum for when you lose control of your bowels in a millionaire’s guesthouse? Certainly, it’s not fleeing the scene. That’s how you end up in this situation, with Paltrow reportedly telling Oprah, Jerry and Jessica Seinfeld, and Larry David, only for them to tell all of the Hamptons. (God, what I would give to know how Larry David reacted to this story.) The way I see it, you have three options.
Tell Gwyneth
Obviously, this option sucks. No adult wants to go to their friend and tell them that they pooped in what I assume are the finest sheets money can buy. Unfortunately, it is the only reasonable choice, and the only one where the possibility of remaining friends exists. Paltrow is no stranger to cleanses; she probably understands. Most likely, though, she’d probably assume you were very ill and want to help you out. Tell her you got some bad seafood salad at Citarella or that you took a wave to the face and drank a lot of questionable ocean water. I understand that communication is hard for a lot of people, so I do have some other ideas.
Throw Money at the Issue
The wildest aspect of this story to me is that the alleged pooper “fled back to the city.” If I really didn’t want to talk to Paltrow about it, this is what I would do. First, you rent a van big enough for a mattress. Then you drive back to the house, ball up the sheets, and throw them in a garbage bag. You and your assistant drag both the mattress and the bagged sheets to the van. Yes, this will be caught on a Ring camera, but we’ll deal with that later. Before you drive off to the nearest dumpster (maybe there’s one behind Round Swamp Farm?), you order a nicer mattress and the exact same sheets. It’s important that you buy a nicer mattress, because when Goop inevitably sees the footage, you can tell her that you revamped the sleeping situation as a gift to her. She will think this is underhanded and rude, but at least she won’t know you shit in her bed.
Witness Protection and/or Light Arson
You can never speak to Paltrow again. You get a new name, a new job, a new life. If you’re really committed, you do a controlled burn of the sheets and the mattress. People will still be talking about you. “Did you hear that they started a fire in Goop’s guesthouse and then skipped town? Do you think it was the candle again?” But no one will ever know that you have gastrointestinal issues, and that kind of seems like a win here.
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