After the incident in the dorms my freshman year, peeing my pants really did start to occur with less frequency. I thought it was a sign I was becoming a real live adult. Oh, there were a few minor incidents here and there, but no full-on, wet pants in a public place. It’s been seven years since then, and compared to my earlier years, I’ve mostly managed to keep my bladder under control. Then this last May, the streak ended (or started up again, depending how you look at it.) I guess I became overconfident.
It was a Thursday, and at about 6:00 p.m., my bladder gently let me know that it needed some relief. The call for a toilet was mild, and I needed to get some stuff done so I ignored the warning. Over the course of the evening, my bladder would intermittently remind me it needed some attention, but I'd get distracted or there wouldn't be a bathroom nearby so I kept putting off the peeing. On Thursday nights, I occasionally drive 30 minutes south of my house to attend institute with a good friend. It lasts an hour and a half. That night after institute, my friend invited me to come to Wendy’s for a late dinner. I accepted the invitation, and after we ate and parted ways, I walked out to my car and remembered my need to pee again for like the fifth time. I was already outside of the restaurant and decided I'd just go at home (because it was way too inconvenient to walk 27 steps back to the Wendy’s bathroom!)
Well, on the way home I decided that I wanted go to my tanning salon really fast before it closed. By this time it was 9:30 and the salon closed at 10. I sped there as fast as I could and ran through the doors at 9:50 -- just in the nick of time. I knew that I should go pee but the owners were obviously ready to close up shop, and I felt bad delaying them anymore than I already was just by getting there so late. I decided to suck it up and hold my bladder for 15 more minutes. (Because what's 15 minutes when you've already been waiting 4 hours?) So I went into the little room with my favorite tanning bed, and one of the owners started the countdown timer which meant I had 3 minutes to undress, slather myself with lotion and get my i-pod ready before the cancer rays turned on.
While I was putting on the special tanning lotion, I realized that the need to pee was now urgent, but that stupid timer had started and I couldn’t waste precious tanning time just to get a little physical relief. Just 10 more minutes... So then I took my jeans off to apply more lotion. Well, the act of pulling my jeans down signaled to my bladder and brain that it was time to Open the Floodgates! They stupidly assumed I was standing next to a toilet.
Well I wasn't.
I was in a little locked room mostly naked, and a timer was ominously ticking down while the two owners wandered around outside making sure the rest of the salon was ready to close. My mind raced desperately for about 30 seconds while I held my knees clenched tightly together hoping to stop what had begun. But there was no stopping it. I quickly scanned the little room to see what my options were. The ones I identified were:
1. Pee all over the floor
2. Pee all over the tanning bed
3. Squat down and pee inside the little miniature garbage can next to the tanning bed
4. Pee into the miniature white towel provided by the tanning salon (obviously NOT provided for that purpose) or
5. Pick my undershirt/tank top up off the floor, shove it between my thighs, pee into it, roll it up, stuff it in my purse, proceed with the tan and then get dressed again sans undershirt and walk out of the room and the salon nonchalantly as though I did not just lose control of my bladder like a 3 or 103 year old.
I chose option 5.
I know, I know…completely gross huh? And while I immediately acknowledged the depravity of what I had just done, it didn’t stop me from laughing hysterically the entire way home. Maybe one day I’ll learn my lesson and either find bathrooms more frequently, whether I feel like I need to pee or not, or go on and buy some of those nice adult diapers I’ve seen calling my name at Wal-Mart.