I’ve had a whole bunch going on lately. Work has been relentless with more travel than usual. Things with Stella became more complicated this week out of the blue, so we’re trying to process and figure out how to reset that situation. I’ve had a zillion thoughts and mini-inspirations, only I haven’t had a moment to do anything with them. I’m blog-constipated, if you must know. The trouble is, I don’t have time now to do anything about it. I have a big meeting (I like to call those “meatings”) in about an hour and still have to make time to drain the girls, etc…
This is one of the minor thoughts I’ve had. It’s not glamorous. But here you go:
A letter to my bladder:
Hello down there!
How’s life? I’ve been really trying hard to drink tons of water to keep you nice and operational. And I’m sure you feel better now that the holidays are over and I’m not having a glass or two of wine every single night.
Anyway, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things. I know, I know. I never call, I never write unless I want something. I suppose this isn’t much different. You see, I’ve recently been struck by the sounds we make when we empty you. Don’t get me wrong: I’m so grateful that we can put the snissing(sneeze+pissing) behind us that we had to deal with when we were pregnant. I know you’re happier without babies jumping on you from the inside; I do my best to keep the little hooligans off of you from the outside. I’m also really happy that I can jump on the trampoline again without having little issues. And I hope you know that I make damn sure I empty you before getting on the trampoline so we have the best chance of success! I do my part, you know.
But the sounds…. See, I work in a fairly large office, meaning we have communal bathrooms. Sure, they have stalls. But you hear things in stalls. I guess I’m sensitive to bathroom noises. If I had my way, I’d lock the whole damn thing whenever I needed to tinkle. I just like my privacy. It’s one of my things.
Long ago I’d hear other (older) women peeing and was horrified. It sounded like someone just upending a 5 gallon bucket over the commode. It didn’t sound like peeing as much as it sounded like bailing out a canoe. I felt sorry for those ladies, wondering what the hell had they done to their poor bladder friends to end up like that. I had these thoughts while you made that nice little delicate tinkling sound – almost like the dew laying itself on blades of grass in the dawn.
Now we’re sounding like my tub at home when I draw a bath for the kids. It’s not as bad as the ladies I’ve mentioned in the above paragraph, but we don’t sound cute anymore – if you can call peeing cute at all. It leads me to believe that in another 10 or so years we, too, will sound like the canoe ladies.
Is there anything we can do about this? I’ve always done my kegels like I was supposed to even though I spared you from the trauma of a traditional birth. Do you require cranberry juice? Is there some kind of vitamin I can take? Please let me know. I await instructions and a better sounding flow.
Your humble body