She was so beautiful and had such poise and social sensibility that it was hard to imagine her pooping one off. But it was even harder to imagine her not pooping one off, since she had just started doing exactly that, and soon would have finished the off-pooping. Thereafter it would have been a fait accompli. Imagination would have been shoved aside, just like the anal folds that the steamer shoved its way through on its way to freedom.