Tony Robbins says everything in life happens for you not to you, and he is so right because I just peed my pants at Planet Fitness.
Sometimes I don’t want to do anything. Today is one of those days. I brought my three year old to the gym daycare to play, then plopped myself in the lobby to clack clack away on my laptop. I’m trying to get some work done! But today is one of those days when I don’t want to do A N Y T H I N G, so my mind is clouded and I have no words.
I did, however, have an urge to urinate. I stupidly forgot my blog topics notebook at home so I have no writing prompts on hand, and the gym internet keeps going out, and my iPhone hotspot keeps going out, but dammit brain, work, so that I can get up to pee! I held it for as long as I could, mostly because I didn’t want to pack up all my materials and hoist my 6-months pregnant body off of the comfy couch to waddle on over to the public restroom, but after an hour of sitting and zero typing, I relented.
As soon as I started walking I knew my situation was dire. I clenched and hurried my steps, but my bouncing belly put pressure on my bladder with each little movement. Oh jeez, Oh jeez, I thought.
I got to the restroom at last. I leaned my body into the normally heavy, sluggish door to force an opening large enough to slip through. I hugged the wall to my left and just kind of rolled my body towards the toilets, but was forced to stop short. A woman had just finished washing her hands and didn’t see me coming. She was now standing nose-to-nose with me.
Oh, ah, haha, we both said, then I stepped to my right and she stepped to her left and we did it again. Ahhhhhhhhh, my body screamed.
Finally, she moved her ass, and I lunged for the first open stall, which was straight up covered in pee. Good God.
I squeezed my inner thighs and shuffled myself to the next cleanish stall. I locked myself in, shimmied out of (and hung) my gym backpack, then began to tug at my shorts, forgetting entirely that they were MATERNITY SHORTS.
Shiiiiiiit, I thought, as I hoisted my shirt up and grabbed the belly band. I ripped it down just as my full bladder released, utterly soaking my shorts and the toilet seat beneath me.
So that’s how it happens, I thought, my sense of humor ever in tact.
I grabbed some toilet paper – single ply, of course – and mopped myself up as best as possible. I cleaned the toilet seat because I’m not a heathen, then I exited the stall. Luckily for me there were no other bathroom patrons at that time, so I had the trusty hand dryer all to myself. I positioned the dryer head as near my butt crack as it would go, bent forward, and smashed that on button.
I walked to the daycare area holding my backpack to hide my crotch. I signed my kid out and raced him to the car, “for fun.” Once safely inside, I cackled with cry-laughter because OH MY GOD, I peed my pants today.
Et voila! A blog post.
Proof that life happens for you, guys.