As in someone who has a phobia for or fear of poop. That describes my husband. Well, that's not completely fair. He does a great job of changing diapers or cleaning up after the dog. No, his fear is a very specific one. He only freaks out when it involves breastfed baby poop that has leaked out of a diaper onto his hand, shirt, arm, pants, etc. Then my farm-raised, tough, country boy husband absolutely freaks out and almost throws the said leaky-diaper baby at me as he sprints to the closest decontamination zone.
Now me, I frequently go all day long with yellow breastfed baby poop stains on my clothing and poop on my hands, arms, etc. rarely elicits more than a sigh. It's a good thing that men are not mothers!