Peeing- A Hate Story

Going to the bathroom is the bane of my existence. I hate that I always have to go when I'm doing something. I hate that my blood pressure meds have me going 6000 times a day. I hate going in the middle of the night. And can anyone think of anything riskier than having to go in public? You never know what you are going to get. I got so tired of carrying around just-in-case disinfectant materials that I made a life rule: no pottying outside the house. Not even when I visit someone's house. I hate to be a tinkle snob, but not even my friends have bathrooms that meet my expectations. 

Lately, I have been asking myself a very serious question: is there really shame in turning to diapers at 39? I have to admit that I am seduced by the idea of all I could get done if I could go from a thousand bathroom breaks to just a couple of pamper changes. I had an elderly substitute teacher in high school, Ms. Rudie, who wore a diaper. I know this because you could see it through her khakis. It made her look like she had a BBL. On top of this, her diaper would crinkle when she walked. And we all would laugh about it. Looking back, I bet her life was incredibly effective. She would put her dipe-dipe on in the morning, teach all day, and not even have to worry about a toilet until the evening. Talk about saving time! 

It was brought to my attention that a handsome, single, well-built man may not want to date a woman who openly and proudly wears an elder Huggy. I get it. But at the same time, I have to ask myself, So what? It's not like the odds are in my favor in this anyway. I have been unlucky in love since Kindergarten when the little boy I was crushing on walked over and kicked over my Lego house. Anyway, Katt Williams told us the scoop: dudes are out here wearing man units! Do men really have the right to judge women anymore? I'm going to go on ahead and say no. 

Honestly, I think that the one thing that keeps me from going all Always Discreet is the price. Buying the supplies for the month would seriously eat into my snack budget, which I think that we all can agree is a non-negotiable. It would be cheaper to pee my pants every day and take a luxury limo service to and from the laundromat. Yet, I am finding these mad dashes to the bathroom problematic. I will let y'all know what I decide. 

Potty Panicked

(warning: this is a TMI post)
About a month ago, I had hands down the worst away from home bathroom experience of my life! It has taken me a minute to discuss it with you because I am still traumatized.
I had to pee really bad, and I had the choice of waiting on my aunt to come out of the grocery store and going at home or taking my chances and using a grocery store bathroom. Anyone who has had to go while shopping will tell you that using a grocery store bathroom is a tossup. But I didn't have a choice. I REALLY had to go.
I raced into the store and straight for the bathroom when my heart sank. My beloved handicapped stall was being occupied by a sister that was in the stall crying. Eyeroll. I had to think fast and on my feet. I could wait on her, but she was in mid-sob, and didn't sound like she would be coming out of there anytime soon. Or I could go to a basic bitch stall that has never, ever gone well for me. Seeing that I have not had A+ bladder control since I was 31, I chose a basic stall.
I ran to the stall at the back of the bathroom only for my heart to, again, sink. I was eye to eye with a dreaded low potty. This toilet looked like the toilets at the daycare that we used to train the 2-year-olds on! They are horribly uncomfortable for tall people, plus-size people, or anyone expecting a positive bathroom experience. But I had no choice! I had to go.
After relieving myself, I came back to reality quick. How the hell was I going to get off of the commode and out of the stall? I attempted to just move fast and get up, but I nearly torpedoed myself out of the stall head first.
I sat back, panicked. What was I going to do? I thought about calling my aunt, but she is notorious for not hearing it when she is out and about.  I even thought about calling to the crying lady in the handicapped stall for help, but how weird and awkward would that have been? For a split second, I thought about crawling out of the stall, but if my undies would have touched the bathroom floor, I would have had no choice but to set the whole bathroom on fire.
Fear gripped my body as I had a vision of me having to call the police to get me out of the stall. I sat there depressed. Was that what my life had come to? Me getting lifted off the john by first responders like some My 600-lb Life reject?
More motivated than I've ever been to do anything, I used my teaspoon of core strength to get up and elbow climb out of the stall.
"Hell ya!" I exclaimed as I got out of the stall with a sharp spasm in my side and tired arms. The lady in the handicapped stall was still crying, but not I! For the first time in a long time, I was faced with a hurdle and was able to get up.