Once upon a time, like all good (ie. bad) girls, I carried a spare pair of knickers in my handbag or in the glovebox of my car. Because I never knew what bed I might wake up in and spare knickers were important. And of course the spare knickers were always a wispy little confection of gorgeous nothingness, only providing coverage by the barest of margins but damn they looked great. And that's the only thing they were there for. To look fabulous.
Fast-forward too many years to count and I find I'm back to carrying a spare pair of knickers in my bag and/or glovebox. Only now they're more likely to look like this:
(only without wings - I fucking hate wings!)
Because now, I'm more apt to cough or laugh and wet myself than to secrete a night-before stranger's bodily fluids into my undies. Yep, my pelvic floor muscles, which were once strong enough to hold a pen and write my name with (I may or may not have tried this once...don't judge me!) and make a man gasp in surprise at their strength, have now decided that they can't even hold on tight enough to stop wee from escaping into my knickers at inopportune times. Fucking fabulous.
So shall we say the word? You can whisper it quietly if you like. Ready?
Incontinence. There. I said it.
Depressing. Sexy. Not. And yes, I know that doing pelvic floor exercises will help (my mum trained me in them from an early age, thankfully, and I had a Caesarean for the birth of my son, so that helped) but still...why does it have to happen at all?
I'm so in denial about this that I even refuse to buy pads specifically for the purpose - I buy normal period pads. Hmmm...I note that I just wrote 'normal', as if to imply that urinary incontinence (however mild) isn't normal. See? Even my subconscience is in denial!
It would help if I could get rid of this damned cough left over from the recent bout of bronchitis but even then, I still like to laugh - a lot and hard - and let's not even get started on sneezing!
Can you identify? Has your knicker drawer slowly transformed from Dita Von Teese into Mrs Slocombe?
Tell me so we can have have a laugh about it together. With our legs crossed of course. And with a spare pair of knickers and a pad close by!