A wee problem

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:

And instead of a sassy little matching bra, the must-have accessory for these sexeh pantehs are these:

(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!

Blood or urine? Depends!

I had a really bad bout of bronchitis a few weeks ago.  The bronchitis has gone but the hacking cough still remains.

That's annoying enough (and made worse by the apparent early arrival of winter in Melbourne, the thin air making me cough even harder) but it's the damned bladder control that's driving me mental.

Honestly. I'm so sick of hacking my guts up only to feel that terrible squirt as my formerly proudly tight (toight, loik a toiger) pelvic floor muscles decide it's just all too hard and let go, resulting in wet knickers and a red face.

I need to start travelling with pads all the time, I've decided.  I got caught off-guard on the weekend.  There we were, strolling through the romantically gorgeous little town of Maldon (seriously, check it out - you'll love it!) when I started coughing...and suddenly felt that decidedly UNromantic squirt of urine.  I told my sweetheart that I had to get to a shop asap and get some pads.  Concerned, he asked "are you bleeding again". Me: "um, no, but I am coughing a lot..." "Oh...I see" was all he said.  Oooh yeah, I'm bringin' sexeh back alright.

Wet knickers are never an option so I raced into the little supermarket and grabbed some pads, asking where a public toilet was.  The woman behind the counter was very sympathetic and let me use their staff loo.  What annoys me most though is that I was too embarrassed to say what was actually going on, instead making up something about unexpected perimenipausal bleeding.  Why though? Obviously blood is acceptable, urine is not.  But I just didn't want to say "I'm wetting myself every time I cough and have to pad up to cope".  Obviously I am more vain than I realised. Years ago, I always made sure I never went anywhere without a spare pair of knickers in my bag. I'm about to start doing that again, only for entirely different reasons now, sadly!