Here is my first humiliating story. I don't think mom even knows about this. She will now!
It was around 1987 which would make me about 12-13. Now I grew up without electricity and 10 miles outside of the small town that we called home. A trip to town had to be planned and when we needed the stuff that you get at Target we had to travel almost an hour away. This was considered a big deal, something I'd get dressed up for.
So we (Beya, Papa and me, sissy had already moved out) had to make one of these treks. I tricked out myself wearing some of my wardrobe staples.
A vest like Bono's:
Under a jacket like Bono's (but mine was even uglier):
and topped off with a hat like The Edge:
I also had on black jeans and black boots. Yes, I thought I was one cool chick in black. And of course my hair was bleached blonde, hair curled, bangs teased so high and aqua netted so hard that a tornado wouldn't make it move.
The first thing I did when we got to the BIG store that carried household supplies AND food (just like a WalMart or even Target now) was hit the magazine racks. I loved music and celebrities and this was back in the day before there was the internet. If you wanted to hear about rock stars and actors you had to buy magazines to read about stuff that had happened a month ago.
Since I had to pick carefully which magazine I was going to actually buy with my hard earned money, I would look through a lot of them before deciding. There were so many to choose from. Bop magazine (ugh, so single digit age appropriate), Teen magazine (again, so beneath me), Seventeen (more like it) and the ultimate, Rolling Stone. This is what I usually went with but still had to thumb through some more to make sure.
I knelt down to reach the magazines in the back.
That's when I felt it.
The urge to pee.
Now my hatred of going to the bathroom started way before this and continues to this day. It is such a waste of time and I hate having to go to the bathroom.
The bathrooms were way in the back of the store and I only had an allotted amount of time before mom would be done shopping. There was a chance I might not be able to go through all the magazines.
"I'll go later" I told myself.
I continued to look through the magazines.....and still needed to pee.
"Just one more, then I'll go to the bathroom."
When I finally stood up to head to the bathroom I realized that I had peed my pants, but just a little. I tried crossing my legs and it was like loosely holding a bulging water balloon, ready to burst.
"I didn't need to go this bad when I was kneeling. I'll kneel back down and maybe I can get a hold on it."
I knelt back down and sure enough, the position I was in managed to kink myself enough into holding my pee. As I sat there, still needing to wiggle around a bit to keep it in I began to realize something. I couldn't stay like this. At some point I was going to have to stand up and walk out of the store and into the car. Or stand up and walk to the back of the store and into the bathroom.
I was screwed.
I tried using mind over matter and forced myself to stand up and see if I could make it. I stood up and I started to have that warm feeling go through my pants again.
What to do?
There was nothing to do. I couldn't stay kneeling so I started to walk to the back of the store hoping I could make it in time to not totally pee my pants.
It didn't work.
The more I walked the more the warm stain grew.
I changed direction realizing there was no point in walking toward the bathroom.
And there wasn't. By the time I reached the front of the store my jeans were wet to the knees.
But I had an empty bladder.
I realized I was no longer the super cool teenage chick dressed all in black. I was now the teenage chick dressed all in black hoping to cover up the fact that I had just peed my pants. I have no idea if anyone could tell as I kept my head down and with the six inch brim of my hat I couldn't see anyone.
And that is story number one, no pun intended.