I had spent the first two hours of my morning deeply engrossed in my task at-hand. So much so, that I chose to ignore my bladder as it swelled up and pushed against the elastic of my undergarment. I decided to take a short bathroom break and absentmindedly slipped my mobile phone into the back pocket of my trousers. On my feet, the contents of my bladder made me move quickly into the female restroom. Now, one of the things that fill me with nostalgia about my younger days was my ability to sit through two hours of class without emptying the contents of my bladder. In fact, I could go partying all night, go home, hit the sack before my metabolism reminded me-to empty its contents. Fast forward twenty years, three children all ranging in size from eight to ten pounds at birth and the attendant pressures those deliveries have on my reproductive system….my bladder, the worst hit.
Now, I am one of the lucky ones. I have not had to undergo reconstructive surgeries as a result of those aforementioned pressures. Childbirth does come with its attendant challenges. (see My muffin top)I have no leakages when I sneeze, a handful of greys, a couple of wrinkles…and of course my inability to sit for longer spells without emptying the contents of that ‘bag’-I think I am ageing quite well…. thank you very much. So. Back to my story. First stall of the restroom-occupied; I made a mad rush to the next while doing that familiar dance , shifting from one foot to the other, while straining and willing the contents of my bladder from seeping…well, you get the drift. As I release a small sigh of relief, I hear a loud clank and watch horrified as my phone sinks to the bottom of the commode.