Last week at the beach, B was at the house watching golf, and I was sitting out under the umbrella people watching when I had to pee so badly. At my age, waiting and holding it are not options. And yes, I know most people pee in the ocean as much as we don’t want to admit it. We all know it, we all see it, we’ve all done it, and if you say you haven’t, I will wonder if you’re lying. We watch as people nonchalantly stroll out into the waves just high enough to rinse off their hoo-ha or hoo-ra area, whichever the case may be, splashing a little water on their arms as if they need to cool off, looking around for shells, when we all know they’re peeing. Me? I feel like I have a neon sign over my head letting everyone know the only reason I’m out there. Have you ever wondered what percentage of the ocean is made up of pee???? Don’t think about that next time you’re contributing.

I had on LIGHT GRAY shorts, not my usual black bathing suit bottoms, so the ocean was not an option. I decided to walk back to the house because I really didn’t want to lose our golf cart space in the number one spot. It’s kind of like the whole “our pew” thing at church again. I couldn’t find my flip flops anywhere so I thought I’d just go barefoot, it’s not that far. Off I go and ten steps in, I realize the sand was hot as hell for early in the morning, and my feet were starting to burn. I was just far enough that I could turn back, knowing my shoes were missing, or head on to the golf cart, screw the number one parking space. I had to pee and it was escalating, I kept going. My feet started to feel like they were on fire so I started a gentle graceful run (buahahaha). Within seconds, I was hurting so badly, I started crying, and I had nowhere to go but ahead which stretched out like a mile. I then realized I was not going to make it to the cart or the potty so I quit the graceful run and took off like a bat out of hell, peeing uncontrollably the entire rest of the way. As I reached the golf cart, I was relieved from peeing, laughing at how ridiculous that was, and crying at the seering pain in my feet.

I drove the cart back to the house, walk in, clearly looking like I’d spilled a drink in my lap, and B said, “I’m surprised you drove the golf cart back.”

Again, I say, don’t run barefoot on hot sand when you have to pee especially if you’re my age and holding your pee is a lot different than when you’re 30, and if you’re 30 reading this, trust me, you will understand this some day, and you will not want to run barefoot through hot sand when you have to pee. You probably won’t want to run at all. Just remember I told you.

JCG

#dontrunthroughhotsand #dontrunwhenyouhavetopee #cantholdpeefornothing #weallpeeintheocean  #crazygirladventures #justacrazygirlnc