L, M, N, O, Q, R…

It’s been a few months since I peed my pants.

Some convergence of age, bouts of childbirth, and a healthy libido have managed to weaken those muscles down thar what keeps the pee in a nice little stretchy sack with a convenient easy-flo exit. Every once in a while, when I forget to pee (which happens a lot, I’m like a damn camel), or sneeze really hard, or maybe daydream about lying on a bed at the ocean’s edge with Raoul giving me a fabulous hot rock massage, like in those commercials, a teeny bit of warm amber liquid will suddenly !spring forth! and I’ll wiggle around enough to check the damage, deem it unnoticeable, and go about my bidness.

It’s not so much a problem now as a badge of honor.

More and more of my girlfriends are squirting pee in public, sharing the story, and making us laugh so much we squirt more pee.

My friend Beth told me she was driving to work the other day, sneezed hard, and let go a pool of pee in her pants. Too far from home, and too congested and hepped up on cold meds to really give a damn, she came to work anyway, wrapped a sweatshirt around her waist, hoped to the jeebus she wouldn’t sneeze again. She worked a short day and then, on her way home, she had to stop at the bank, and while in line…yep, she sneezed again, and the pee went, Hello!, and she pulled the sweatshirt tighter and prayed for an open teller window.

Well, yeah!

I mean, our whole lives we pee! First we do it in diapers, then in underwear whilst potty training, then those youthful years of purposely, gleefully peeing in parking lots and squatting over rocks at the campground and odd random experiments with urinals. After a while, though, our bodies wave a white flag (made of toilet paper) and say, “Y’know, I’m tired, people, tired of holding this mess o’ liquid inside. Kegels? Pffft. Screw you, I’m outta here”, and then the word “incontinent” slips in through the cracks of our brain, and as we stand in front of the feminine products at the grocery store, out of the corner of our eye we can see the rows of Depends, and we wonder how many more years before those appear in our grocery cart, and couldn’t we just use super-sized maxi pads instead?

Beth heard of a surgical procedure wherein a doctor inserts a thick tube into the urethra, like a shunt or tube in the ear, so the pee has a smaller opening to escape from, and prevents the occasional “sneeze-oops-I-peed” scenario. I’m not sure about that…doesn’t liquid, when forced through a narrow opening at a certain rate of speed, make the liquid come out faster, like a pressure washer? That’s all we need…to be calmly standing in line at the DMV when all of a sudden, we’re on a geyser at Yellowstone, hoping no one notices.

And that, dear bloggers, is my first post on pee. And hopefully my last.