If you read Sunday’s daily prompt, you’ll already be buckled in and waiting for this story. If you didn’t — well, first of all, where were you? And second, you can catch up here before diving into this absolute mess of a moment, starring me, a pee funnel, and a very unfortunate car seat.
So there I was, fresh off post surgery recovery, figuring out how to survive life in a compression suit. Now, let’s talk about these suits for a second, were they designed by someone who secretly hates women? Because getting into one is a full-blown workout. I’m sweating, grunting, twisting into every possible contortion known to man, all while desperately hoping I don’t snap something in the process.
Seriously, it’s like trying to fit into a sausage casing that’s one size too small. There’s no grace, no dignity, just me, face down on the floor, praying to the compression gods for mercy. And once it’s on? I feel like a human sized sausage. Sure, it’s keeping everything in place, but I’ve basically got a whole new set of issues and flesh rolls to prove it.
But it gets worse. After all the sweaty effort of getting into this torture device, I find myself in town, ready for a meeting, and desperate for a wee. I had a brand new she wee funnel system, yes, you read that right – a funnel attached to a bottle for those days when you can’t quite make it to the toilet. You know, for when you’re too far gone to be able to function normally. A perfect post surgery essential (or so I thought).
Naturally, I decided to give it a test run. Because when you’re in dire need of relief, why not also test out a new piece of equipment that’s supposed to make you feel like you’ve got your life together, right? Wrong.
So, I climbed into the back seat, removed the necessary clothing, and got ready to release the floodgates. Now, here’s the issue, these compression suits have zippers in places no one ever wants them. Especially after a period of surgery recovery when you’re sporting a nice little afro that’s somehow more interested in sticking to the compression suit than cooperating with you. Trying to unzip and position the funnel while contorting into some sort of yoga pose, I could feel my anxiety rise.
The funnel now in position, I was finally feeling like a winner, watching the liquid gold start to flow. But suddenly…something was wrong. Yeah, you guessed it: the funnel had slipped. And not just slipped, but fully redirected the flow of wee all over the back seat. There I was, mid-flow, trapped in my compression suit like a human pretzel, holding a bottle half full of wee while the other half decorated the seat. I tried to stop mid stream, but nope, that wasn’t going to happen.
Now, I was left with no choice but to use some discarded work clothes as a piss mop. And then came the real challenge: trying to climb out of the car without drenching myself in my own urine. I mean, honestly, who even knew this would be part of the plan for the day?
I don’t know what’s worse: the trauma of wearing the compression suit in the first place or the sheer humiliation of an impromptu urine spill in a car. The whole thing was a complete mess of awkwardness, frustration, and wee. But hey, at least I didn’t let it stop me. I kept going. Because, really, what else could I do?
And here’s the wisdom I’ve got to offer from this experience: life is messy. Sometimes you think you’ve got it all under control, only for everything to slip through your fingers (or your funnel). But in the end, it’s all about getting back up, cleaning up the mess with whatever’s at hand (even if it’s your own work clothes), and just getting on with it. Because when it’s all said and done, you’re the one who’s got to get up and carry on. Dignity is overrated anyway.
Lottie x
Thirty Something Plus VAT 