THE INCREDIBLY SHRINKING BLADDER
A momentous occasion occurred yesterday ... so much so, it must be blogged about ... it just must.
I traveled for more than four hours ... in a car ... by myself ... without getting out to use the restroom.
Why is this important?
Whatever could be so monumental about this event that one should find the need to blog about it?
In a public venue?
It's a bodily function, for heaven's sake!
It's important, because most days, I can't manage to travel from my house to Walmart (which is across town) without having to go to the bathroom, let alone four hours!
I can stretch a four hour drive into eight hours stopping at every blade of grass or bush along the highway. It's as if my bladder detects a lengthy car ride, and it decides to screw itself into the tiniest ball of muscleknown to science, just for the occasion, and then spasm maniacally at every bump in the road.
The trip to Michigan, and the reason for which I found myself in my truck yesterday, is approximately a 6 hour drive. I've never made it even close to six hours ... it's always closer to seven ... sometimes, even seven and a half. I could never figure out why ...
The key, it would seem, is to wear form fitting denim Capri pants. This, apparently, restricts any bladder growth ... that is until you finally do exit your vehicle to fuel up. Then becomes imperative to find a restroom!
Yes, it is a gold star moment. Something that may never be accomplished again.
I will revel, no, I will bask in the glow of a six and a half hour journey with only ONE potty break!
I traveled for more than four hours ... in a car ... by myself ... without getting out to use the restroom.
Why is this important?
Whatever could be so monumental about this event that one should find the need to blog about it?
In a public venue?
It's a bodily function, for heaven's sake!
It's important, because most days, I can't manage to travel from my house to Walmart (which is across town) without having to go to the bathroom, let alone four hours!
I can stretch a four hour drive into eight hours stopping at every blade of grass or bush along the highway. It's as if my bladder detects a lengthy car ride, and it decides to screw itself into the tiniest ball of muscleknown to science, just for the occasion, and then spasm maniacally at every bump in the road.
The trip to Michigan, and the reason for which I found myself in my truck yesterday, is approximately a 6 hour drive. I've never made it even close to six hours ... it's always closer to seven ... sometimes, even seven and a half. I could never figure out why ...
The key, it would seem, is to wear form fitting denim Capri pants. This, apparently, restricts any bladder growth ... that is until you finally do exit your vehicle to fuel up. Then becomes imperative to find a restroom!
Yes, it is a gold star moment. Something that may never be accomplished again.
I will revel, no, I will bask in the glow of a six and a half hour journey with only ONE potty break!
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