I can’t stop peeing my pants. There you go, I’ve said it. My name is Sharyn Hayden, I’m 37 years old and I haven’t been doing my Kegel exercises.
When I laugh, I piss myself. When I sneeze, I piss myself. And given that I’m prone to giggling at everything AND bouts of hay fever, both pee-inducing events are happening fairly regularly. Since ‘squeezing it in’ in advance of said giggle or sneeze only results in a pain in the tummy, it’s not really an option. However, I have taken to wearing black leggings and knicker pads as a matter of daily routine. I’ve also been ‘pretend laughing’ and doing those inny-sneezes which make me sound like a chipmunk and look like a weirdo. Both practices mean that I am wholly unsociable and unsuited for comedy or outdoor events.
We moved house in February of this year and have some amazing neighbours. To the front, my longterm pal and beautician (SCORE!) Khadeja who runs Glow Beauty in Skerries and who I am generally counting on to conduct an entire makeover when the baby arrives. Despite my constant enquiries, she assures me that she isn’t qualified to perform any breast enhancements.
To the side is a lovely young couple with son Alfie, who came to introduce themselves and brought us a bottle of ‘Welcome Wine’ as soon as we had moved in! Obviously, they are on my BFF list forever. I met them while out for a short walk last week, sneezed and 100% pee’d myself standing right in front of them. Quick leg squeeze together, some excuse about leaving the gas on in the kitchen and needing to get home & I MAY have gotten away with it. Haven’t seen sight nor sound of them since, mind you.
To the left, it’s The Gaybours, who I am reluctant to introduce myself to until I am no longer an advertisement for the ‘breeders’ that they dread so much. They and I haven’t said so much as ‘Christina’s work has never been as good as her first album’ to each other, but I appreciate that The Bump is creating a fabulousness barrier between us. Mind you, every time Ass Monkey is out the front at the van or in the garden, they trip out to have the chats. (Who can blame them; he’s a handsome man with a lawnmower/hedge trimmer/van keys in his hand).
I am totally jealous though, particularly because I can’t wait to ask them where they got the chandelier that hangs in their conservatory, but I would hate for either of them to say something amazingly bitchy about Katie Price ‘not knowing’ she was pregnant at 6 months, and have me destroy my carefully chosen ‘Conversation With The Gaybours Outfit’ right in front of them with my wayward urine.
The lesson, kids: DO YOUR KEGEL EXERCISES. THINK OF THE NEIGHBOURS.
[Don’t miss ‘Preggo Watch: Won’t Someone Think of the Vaginas?’]