It was 2002…
At eight years old I was a spritely young thing. With bangs, my hair cut right below my ear lobes, freshly pierced ears, a HUGE gap between my teeth and at a whopping 60 pounds, you could say I was quite the dork.
Although I already considered myself an avid soccer player, my parents signed me up for softball.
It was a whirlwind of a season, filled with crying girls, sunflower seeds in my hair, and red dirt caking to my cleats.
Every so often, my team, The Hurricanes (we were bright orange...) would go to the batting cages for practice.
On this particularly hot day, I was guzzling water like a camel. No amount of water seemed to quench my thirst from salty snacks, too much Big Chew, and my nervousness about going up to bat in front of my older teammates.
As we stood in line to bat, my anxiety reached its tipping point. I asked a girl on my team where the restroom was. She gave me a look of terror and said, “I went in there earlier. It was DIS-GUST-TING. You really shouldn’t go in there…”
I trusted my friend. She said the bathroom was gross! I wasn’t going to risk the filth and unimaginable bathroom horrors. Not only was I afraid of the unknown, I also didn’t want my friend to know that I went IN THERE. Seven year olds get made fun of for all sorts of reasons, and going into a nasty bathroom seemed like a good one to me. I could only imagine the possible nicknames. Sicky Nicki. Stinky Nicki. Bathroom Birkholz.
Well, I’m sure you can see where this story leads.
“Nicki! Your turn to bat!”
I slowly walked towards the cage. Focus Nicki, focus. I put on my helmet, grabbed my bat and straddled the side of home plate.
The first ball released.
And that wasn’t the only thing that released.
My brain went from focusing on holding my bladder...to focusing on trying to hit the ball.
I peed myself. Yep, that’s right. I peed myself in front of my friends, my coaches, and intimidating older teammates.
I heard the whispers from my team as they realized that the growing stain on my pants wasn’t from sweat. I instantly burst into tears.
My Dad was there (thank goodness) and he quickly led me to the car. He threw a towel on the seat and we drove home.
I was mortified! Embarrassed beyond measure. I wasn’t a baby or toddler venturing into potty training, I was eight years old for goodness sake! And not only did I pee myself in front of everyone, I would have to continue to encounter them on a weekly basis at practices or games.
Sighhhhh, so there it is folks. When I was eight years old I peed myself because I was scared of a dirty bathroom and insecure about what others would think of me if I entered said scary bathroom.
I had other embarrassing moments in junior high and high school, but this one ranks in the top three. Maybe I'll blog about those later...
Moral of the story: If you avoid the bathroom when you have to go, then urine trouble!
…Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. :)
Nicki B. Pee Pee