There once was a woman who walked regularly from her office in Midtown Manhattan to a hotel across the street in order to use the restroom, and that woman may have been one of us.

That woman had a friend, at another office job, who carried a book of matches and a can of air freshener in her purse — more willing to set off the office fire alarm than leave any hint of odor in a public lavatory.

That friend had another friend, at another office job, who repeatedly forced her body to do the deed so quickly — racing from cubicle to bathroom and back, in an effort to deflect attention from what she might be doing in there — that it led to a semi-serious hemorrhoid problem.

As her former colleague put it: “She was pooping at the speed of pee.”

Remember the children’s book, “Everyone Poops”? It is meant to teach kids that defecating is a natural, healthy part of digestion, and it does so by illustrating a wide variety of creatures — dogs, cats, snakes, whales, hippos, little boys — happily defecating. But you know who you won’t see defecating in that book, happily or unhappily? Women.