Tuesday, March 5, 2013
What You DON'T Want to Lose Post-Baby
I discovered this loss practicing with the Psych Ward Sirens. As a Fresh Meat skater waiting to be drafted to a team, I had to make the rounds between the three home teams. Each one had its own personality and wanted to see how the rookie skaters fit in with the team dynamic and skill set. If there is one thing the Sirens are psycho about, it's their workouts.
After two intense hours on skates in Proctor Park running through derby drills, we changed into tennis shoes for the off-skates portion of practice. "Is there a bathroom?" I asked one of the girls who was lacing up her shoes beside me.
"I generally pee in that house," she said.
She was not pointing to an actual house, but a playhouse next to the swings. Under the halogen lights above the park, the interior of the playhouse was dark. "Um, isn't that where kids play?"
She laughed. "Not at night."
I was debating the morality of peeing in a child's playhouse when the team captain shouted, "LET'S GET MOVING!" Mistilla the Killa outlined the regimen while I watched her legs--tiny, but like a gymnast's, taut with muscle. We would be alternating running, burpees, squats, and something that looked painful and involved a kettle bell.
It was on the first of five laps that I realized that I was peeing in my pants. With every step I could feel my pelvic muscles contracting and loosening. I tried flexing different things or locating which muscles I should be holding in, but nothing seemed to work. That was the moment I realized my pelvic floor was gone.
Guess I should have used the playhouse.
I can think of few things more humiliating than peeing your pants as a grown-up. Especially when you are a lowly Fresh Meat in a roller derby league, hoping to impress a tough-as-nails team. But by the end of the brutal workout, I was drenched in enough sweat that a little urine went unnoticed. (Black tennis skorts are also helpful when you need to hide a pants-peeing incident. Just in case you wanted to know.) I was feeling pretty proud of making it through the tough practice, and a little less self-conscious since no one was blatantly staring. No one had noticed that the rookie peed her pants.
"How'd you like Siren practice?" Sick Nick asked me with a grin as we walked back to our cars.
"I think I peed my pants," I said.
She waved a dismissive hand. "That's nothing. I pee my pants all the time. The price of motherhood and derby."
Apparently, I didn't need to worry about what would have been shameful in some other context. If you're going to lose your pelvic floor, roller derby is safe place to do it and admit it.
Or you could just pee in the playhouse.
Joining up again with the fabulous community of writers who blog and bloggers who write at Yeah Write. Come read and join in the fun.