You're In Trouble

I refuse to think of them as chin hairs.  I think of them as stray eyebrows. Janette Barber

I can't recall how we got on the subject of incontinence, but as I was giving a massage treatment to my octogenarian client yesterday, she relayed a girlhood story of how she and her mother were out for a walk one evening when they came upon an older woman wearing a long black skirt. The woman, who happened to be peeing on her shoes, pointed at the sky and said, "Isn't it a lovely sunset?" My client's mother later explained that in an attempt to cover her embarrassment, the woman was trying to divert their attention away from the puddle at her feet. From that day on when my client or her mother needed to use the restroom, they simply said, "Isn't it a lovely sunset?"

As I massaged E's back, I suddenly flashed on the day my mother stood in front of an our old O'Keefe and Merit stove, stirring a pan of tomato soup while 3 cheese sandwiches fried on a cast iron griddle. My sisters and I had walked home from school for lunch, and I was in the midst of telling a funny story when my mother suddenly clutched her belly, laughing in that way that sounded like hollow bells. "Stop!" she said. And then to our complete horror, she pissed herself, a yellow puddle forming on the linoleum as we looked on in disbelief.

As with most benchmarks of the aging process, I never expected it would happen to me. The first time I peed myself, I was facilitating a dance workshop ala Gabrielle Roth with a group of about eight women on a warm Sunday afternoon. When we reached the "lyrical" section of the five rhythms, I went into faerie mode, skipping my way across the wooden floor to the accompaniment of a Lord of the Dance CD. Mid-song, I leapt rather effortlessly, before landing on my bare feet in the center of several ecstatic women. In that moment I suddenly became profoundly aware of a lowering of my bladder, not at all unlike the end of pregnancy when one's baby drops and settles into the pelvic girdle. Before I could stop myself, I leapt again and this time felt the full weight of the last swallow of morning coffee as it escaped its leaky container.

Deeply grateful for the choice of black tights under my long skirt, I side-stepped my way toward the bathroom with as much grace as anyone who just wet their pants could possibly muster.  Mortified by my sudden loss of urinary faculties, I rinsed my tights in the sink before hiding them in my purse. I was only forty-two years old. Surely this couldn't already be the beginning of my feminine decline into crone-hood. Could it? The horrified face in the mirror said yes, it probably could. What did you expect after giving birth to three children--the last of whom weighed in at ten pounds?

Eventually I gathered what was left of my pride and rejoined the other dancers, making some silly comment about those tights being too constricting and hot. Five years later I can retell the story without blushing every shade of a lovely sunset. 

(You gotta admit this was one of my best--or worst--titles of all time. I kill myself sometimes. Heh heh.)

Technorati Tags: aging, perimenopause, menopause, hot flashes, saliva test, dance, body image, dancing, gabrielle roth, essay, blog, self image, baby boomers, writing, writers, poetry, prose, women, hormones, incontinence

Comments

[Karl]

Ha, I've come close to peeing myself, but it's all alcohol-related. Heck, for all I know, I HAVE peed myself. I can certainly recall screeching to a halt on the side of a highway and barely getting my zipper down before sighing louder than a deflating hot-air balloon.

I guess you'll have come full circle when your kids tell you a story so funny you urinate on the kitchen floor.

[ellie]

What is it with men peeing on the side of the road? I see this all the time (not that I look). Didn't your mom ever tell you guys to go before you leave the house? Sheesh. You don't see women squatting next to their cars on the 101.

[Terri]

No more sneezing or coughing in public. I do have an emergency "trick" while on the road - learned in Europe. You open the car door and "sit" the back of your fanny on the door jam so you can "go" sitting down and with the door have a tiny bit of privacy. I did this recently, while very tired, afterwards looked down and saw the ground was dry. Yes, I'd just peed in the car. Thank goodness my husband has a great sense of humor.

[TT]

A natural function of life.

[janitorinadrum]

"What is it with men peeing on the side of the road?"

Because we can! :)
Gus

[ellie]

Well we can too, Gus. We just don't.(However we HAVE used a popcorn container inside the car at the drive-in movie when the bathroom was too gross to use)

[pioneerspirit]

El, my Husband has a nice job where he gets to spend part of the day running around in the company vehicle doing "this and that" and part of the day at the desk, planning the "this and that." I'm sure it's all more complicated than that but the reason for my rambling is that I am always amazed when I catch up with my blogs which I barely have time to read, no less comment on- and I find that he has read them and commented on them already. I need to get HIS job so I can read all my blogs regularly.
I can relate to your friends and your pee stories and it's good to know that my TT has such a balanced view of the "natural part of life."

[ellie]

I always appreciate both you and your hubby's comments though sometimes surprised he'd be interested in mine based upon his conservative values. I get a little raw sometimes as you know. But I sure wouldn't want to ride around in a truck all day. Talk about bladder damage!

[Jim]

How did I miss this one? Would love to stay and comment more but I gotta go....now, I mean right-damn-now....

[Juno888]

I can relate to your friends and your pee stories and it's good to know that my TT has such a balanced view of the "natural part of life."