Okay, so I have been thinking whether or not to write this post all day, but if I don’t, you won’t really know what it feels like to be me right now. So I have decided to stuff what everyone will think and simply be honest.
People with a nervous disposition may want to turn away.
So today was stressful, we decided to go shopping in Worcester. From the get go, it was the most unsuccessful trip ever. We gave Beboo a drink, as usual, however she decided to pour it all over herself and me being the biggest turd, did not have a change of clothes.
So Primark was our first port of call.
Apart from people standing in the middle of the walkways, which I totally do not get and do not appreciate being evil eyed when I try and get by, its a WALKWAY. We found the appropriate garments for a total of £2 (Yey me) and proceeded to pay.
Whilst paying Pops decided she needed a wee now. Great. I now needed the lady to hurry the hell up and try to find a toilet in town. Hubby spotted M&S had a toilet, so off we went.
As Beboo needed changing due to the big spill, we all needed to go.
We walked all the way to the back of the store to the lift, which was out of order. We had to make a dash to the second lift, so we dodged all the grannies and made it to the lift. Only to join a cue.
Yup, it seemed the whole of Worcester needed to get in the lift the same time Pops “NEEDED A WEE”
We stood and waited for our turn in the lift, the really slow lift. Then once on the right floor, we needed to locate the toilets. Alas, another cue.
Hubby whipped Pops into the mens and I dashed to the disabled toilet. Yes, I do have the right to use one, despite all the lovely comments the older generation deemed necessary.
I changed Beboo and decided to go to the toilet as I was there.
So I did.
Then we regrouped after the toilet’tastrophie, I felt
very a little stressed but carried on regardless.
I was wondering around and suddenly discovered I needed a wee again, however my bladder gave me no forewarning and decided that now meant now.
Yup, I weed myself.
Now, it has to be said it didn’t feel like I had at the time, but low and behold, I had.
On returning home, as well as changing the beds, I sorted myself out, and I cannot tell you how nice dry pants felt.
However I sat on the toilet, wrestling my icky pants off Narla, it hit me again, just what this disease means.
I am guessing your day was better than mine?!