The Dressing Room Waterfall

I don't know why, but every time I enter a 7-11 or a dressing room I have an urgent need to urinate. Perhaps it is some subconscious thing; I am no psychologist.   The dressing room I can somewhat understand, though still strange.  The urgency during 7-11 visits may stem from my past frequent Big Gulp consumption. But Anyway....

About 10 years ago my Aunt was visiting from out of town.  We decided to go shopping at a  Kohl's.  (they have great sales) We each had an armful of things to try on and went into the dressing room area.  I was in a middle dressing room.  I don't remember if she was next to me or across, it matters little anyhow.  As you probably know, the dressing rooms are not rooms at all but tall cubicles with open bottoms. If you bend over you can see the feet of the person next to you.
The usual occurrence happened.  I suddenly had to pee badly.   I can normally hold it in until exiting the dressing room, sometimes with a little pee-pee dance.  I managed to get through trying on the items I brought in with me, non of which fit well. Then I dressed back into my shirt and skirt of light and flowy fabric. At this point my need to urinate was an emergency and my reflex is to partially bent over, frozen, to hold it.  The moment the urge subsides enough to stand up and find a restroom is the goal. But sadly, that moment never came. I was fighting the flow, hoping, praying this would end in my favor so I would keep a shred of dignity.  I ended up losing the good fight in my hunched over position, on the floor, soaking my skirt.  There was a visually wet spot on the floor and I was noticeably soggy.  In a panic, I put the clothes I brought in onto the wet spot to cover it up temporarily. No doubt that ruined their chance of being sold.  The next order of business was to find an alternate skirt or pair of pants- anything so I could get the hell out of there before anyone noticed.  Luckily, the person before me left unwanted items behind.  There was a pair of pink stripped clam digger pants, only a couple sizes too big, but fit enough to stay up and wear out of the store.  I put them on, balled up the wet skirt & underwear and probably put in in my bag, I don't remember but am sure I tried to hide the evidence.  While all this was going on I maintained banter with my aunt, so she was unaware of the unfortunate drama happening less than 10ft away.

We left the dressing room.  My aunt noticed I was wearing something different and I gave her some cockamamie story about loving the pants. I decided it was time to go asap. Ripping off the tag, quickly paying, I maintained my cool.  I could not get out of there quick enough.


Throughout this traumatic event I was laughing, as that was all I could do.  I was embarrased, but it was funny to me.  Like a scene of a movie involving the pathetic main character in a situation you know will end badly, and it is all their fault.  I did end up telling my aunt what happened and was laughing when I told her, hoping she would laugh too.  She looked at me in shock and there was no laughter.  At least she didn't tell too many people.

The accidental Viewing

My old neighborhood was close knit and a safe, quiet place.  So safe, in fact, that many people do not close their shades at nightfall.  Sometimes I wish they did so I would not be tempted to look in the direction of their illuminated rooms.  I really don't WANT to look; I just don't care what people are up to.  I know I do not appreciate it when people look in my windows, and I am sure they do.  The last time I forgot to pull my shades down I ended up changing my pants, as I realized I was in full view of whoever happened to be looking.


The most common window I glanced into was across the street.  A young, yet legal gentleman, who spent alot of time in his room. Perhaps working, sometimes playing music. I did enjoy his music. 

You see, as soon as I pulled in the drive way and walked to my door I was drawn to his large, revealing window as his room was so brightly lit against the darkness of evening.  It happened like a reflex.  I tried not to look, and always turned my eyes away as soon as I realize what I was doing.  He must notice the occasional stare into his room, as he began close his blinds when I entered my room, which was directly across from his.

I have never seen or heard anything scandalous, and I am glad that he was a decent man.  I learned alot about him by observation: He was an excellent musician, a hard worker at whatever it is he did for work, he took pride in his yard and kept it beautiful. I often wished he would say hello, and perhaps offer a hand of friendship, but it did not happen. In fact, I believe he avoided me. Ah well, such is life.