This is a big fat mushroom print for my bladder. Yes, you read that correctly, it’s for my bladder. Because of it I can now not-so-proudly attend an MBA meeting and say, “Hi, my name is Inelegant Life, and I have mommy bladder.” Please stop reading here if you are disgusted by talk of tampons and wet panties and gushing. TMI defines this post.
Because of mommy bladder, several pairs of my favorite undergarments have been sadly left behind in public bathrooms. Particularly on nights that involve alcohol or lots of tea. My husband has found this extremely humorous on numerous occasions.
Because of mommy bladder, my teen son got to laugh hysterically as I careened off the road, jumped out of the van, and all but rolled down a ditch to find an appropriate spot to pee where he and other drivers couldn’t see me.
Because of mommy bladder, I have had wet panties seconds before or after walking into a bathroom. Mommy bladder can hold it, or not even let you know she’s holding it, until the instant you pull into the driveway. Or put the key in the lock. Or see a bathroom door. And mommy bladder lets loose. It doesn’t matter how many kegels you’ve done or how tightly you cross your legs while hopping to the toilet. You’re done for.
Since I had my hysterectomy, mommy bladder has gotten worse. I’m not really sure why this is, though I have some theories. I won’t share them. They’ll show my ignorance, I’m positive. But since then I can’t do anything that involves jumping without being prepared. I can’t do jumping jacks or jump on a trampoline. Because when I do there is not just a trickle, but a gush, wherein I pretend to fall and land sitting on my hand so I can try to sneakily feel if it’s gone all the way through my clothes.
I tried to ignore mommy bladder for awhile, thinking she would go away with time. When I started cardio kickboxing and learned the problem with jumping jacks, I tried wearing a tampon and a pair of control top shorts. That helped some – as long as I didn’t do any jumping for an extended time. I modified my jumping jacks for less impact. But then I started trampoline aerobics. I tried to stick to my previous method. This did not work out well. I gushed and knew it was very close, if not quite, all the way through. It was so bad the tampon was falling out.
So at the very old age of 37, I bought my first package of Poise pads. SURELY, the medium would suffice and I’d only need one per class. I mean, geez. Alas, if I do not remember or have time to relieve myself several times immediately before class and/or have had alcoholic drinks or tea recently, I’ve discovered that one medium pad is not enough. Or it is enough but it’s like carrying an extra pound or so in my panties. Not comfortable. I did not take this well. I sat in the bathroom, only ten minutes into class, wanting to cry and thinking that any place that allows women who have had children to jump on a trampoline should not only have a Poise pad dispenser, it should be FREE. We’ve gone through enough, don’t make us ask for change to buy our wee-wee pads!
So, this mushroom print is for mommy bladders everywhere. And for establishments that do not provide us with free Poise pads.
