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One day in the spring. My boys are 7 and 4.
I am running.
I am running down Broadway trying to catch a bus.
I am running down Broadway trying to catch a bus and coughing.
I am running down Broadway trying to catch a bus and coughing and peeing in my pants.
Gaaaaahh. I stop.
It didn’t used to be this way. Not till I had natural childbirth with two healthy boys!
See what you did to me!
A few years ago, I gave in. I had The Surgery. The bladder sling. My husband used to ask “Wasn’t that a movie with Billy Bob Thorton?” (Get it? Sling Bladder? What a wit.) Now I don’t pee when I cough or laugh or sneeze any more. I still don’t sleep through the night, though.
But I can run for the bus without fear.
This song is NOT about bladder functions. And yet, when I sing about the body I used to have, the line about incontinece always stops the show. The women lose it. The men are, by and large, clueless. After “Gravity,” I’m always faced with the problem: What song do I do next? Halfway through a poignant ballad, someone bursts out giggling, still thinking about the previous song — and their own “oops” moments in their lives!
So after “Gravity,” I usually follow with a nice uplifting number. Like “Mom Is NOT My Real Name!” I’ve learned my lesson. Never share the stage with children, animals, or bodily functions!