The floodgates

It happened the summer following my freshman year of high school. My two sisters, brother and myself were on a sibling camping adventure. On our agenda...whitewater rafting. I'm neither athletic nor adventurous, therefore the prospect of whitewater rafting sent my heart a-palpitating. When we found ourselves running late the morning that we were to embark on this endeavor, I felt hopeful. The frenzy to arrive at our destination had left no time to pee. Noelle sped the car along and barked at me to change into my swimsuit, she'd glance furtively at me in the rear view mirror with furrowed brow to make sure I was complying. Sweaty and terrified that my brother might look back and catch an eyeful, I attempted to shimmy into my suit in a manner that showed as little skin as possible. Much to my chagrin we made it just in time. Of course, by this time, the urge to pee was steadily increasing. The rushing water, jostling, and gripping fear of our raft flipping, consequently sending me downstream to crash into sharp objects, was not helping. We managed to make it through unscathed.

Afterwards, Romaine wanders off to relieve herself in some disgusting latrine in the woods. By this time I had to pee something fierce, but I'd be damned if I'd subject myself to a stanky biffy. I was certain I could hold it. We waited what seemed like a millenium for the crew to load the gear, and I felt a trickle run down my leg. Seconds later the floodgates opened and and no amount of clenching could close them. I stood there as the urine escaped my bladder, seemingly in slow motion, while I looked at my siblings with desperation and embarrassment. At the age of 13, I had wet myself.



This post is written for the Great Experiment, feel free to vote for me, topic is embarrassing moment if you couldn't tell.