Can we talk about the decay of America for a moment? Nah, I’m kidding, I am as tired of this election bullshit as you are.
There is something much more important on my mind, deterioration of my ever-maturing urine blimp. AKA, my bladder.
Let me take you back…way back. At a time, when the pee-pee dance worked, and I could sit for hours while holding my bladder from letting urine leak down my leg.
My parents taught me early on, to do my Kegels. Although I thought they were merely trying to stop me from peeing at every, EVERY, supermarket or store, we entered. ( This came back to bite me in my ass when I had my own kids ). I even considered myself an expert in the hold-your-pee category. Hours could pass, and it felt as though my body had absorbed any longing to urinate. A proud moment in my formative years.
When Kegels certainly weren’t the only thing on my mind. It’s feasible I didn’t realize how important they were or if I was maintaining my pelvic floor. But I did them; I Kegeled it up on the regular.
However my twenties were happening, and I was in the throes of my youth. Life was carefree, college, work, party, work, party. Not necessarily in that order.
Those were the days. Ah, twenty. Babies were an insignificant concept, and pregnancy was a four letter word. A. Four. Letter. Word.
I spent my time doing countless more important things. Like watching Friends on a Thursday night, heading to my favorite watering hole, or simply doing whatever the fuck I wanted. Oh, twenty, how I miss you. I was too busy living the dream, which included playing drinking games and throwing huge parties. I didn’t have time to worry about exercising my soon to be baby canon.
I was twenty-ish; I had more time on my hands than Donald Trump will after this election. My kind of pelvic exercise was taking the bald-headed gnome for a stroll in the misty forest. Besides, I had met the man I would soon marry, we were practicing completing the jizzsaw puzzle. And it worked.
It wasn’t until the joy/agony of pregnancy, crashed my party, did I come to realize how important it was to tighten the bread basket. Not only was it peculiar to lose my grasp on the title I proudly held in the hold-your-pee category but I couldn’t hold in my pee if my life depended on it.
Seriously, gun to my head. “Hold your pee!” Pee trickles down leg. Shit.
Pregnancy (two of them), and launching babies from my love socket changed EVERYTHING. After those babies, of course, the doctor explicitly emphasized the need to find my pelvic floor, and do my Kegels. And I did them, religiously. I wanted my title back. Also, getting out of bed to pee every five minutes, not my idea of a good time.
Fast forward to my forties. The place where pee drips with ease and sneezing is scary.
Sometimes I wonder if it was my lack of concern in my twenties, but really, I have a sneaking suspicion these Kegels were a man’s doing. Perhaps they weren’t meant to help with bladder control as much as…I think you are picking up what I am throwing down.
What I do know, is the Kegels, they don’t fucking work. Not anymore. Who knows if they ever really did? Not me. I am not saying don’t do the Kegels; I don’t want to start a #IStillPeeAfterKegels movement. Nonetheless, I can’t jump on a trampoline, learned it the hard way. I can’t sneeze, and the last time I had the flu, vomiting became a bodily function affair. I’m one pee stained pant away from finding this Dr. Arnold Kegel, (yeah, I looked him up), and tearing his eyes out.
I get it; my bladder has changed. My once vibrant and firm urine bag probably resembles an airless balloon. I have come to a point in my life where urinary incontinence, is a daily occurrence. Shit, yesterday I got out of bed and before I made it to the toilet, I was peeing! Kegel Schmegel I say!
Okay, okay, I know, maybe you are twenty, even thirty, and now you are thinking — Ha, this will never happen to me, I am a Kegel aficionado — you are wrong. It will happen to you, well that is of course if you use your passion biscuit as a child rocket.
When it happens, I am not sure there is any advice I can give you, just that there will come a time, you too will cross your legs, tightly, as you sneeze. You will opt out of trampoline jumping with your children, and there may come a time ( this may have happened on more than one occasion when I was playing baseball recently) you are running from first to home, and you pee a little all the way there.
So yeah, keep up the Kegels, I guess. I don’t know. Maybe you will have better luck with your bladder than I have. But for what it’s worth, Forty can suck it, especially when it comes to urine.