Some of Nicola's Minor Knicker Wetting Incidents . . .

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. . . not all of my desperation incidents have been the spectacular times that I have written about, times when my poor little bladder has been stretched to its absolute limit - or beyond, resulting in agony, public weeing and even wet panties.
These, thankfully, are quite rare, as I take all possible precautions to avoid such happenings.
(You might enjoy reading about them, but quite frankly, I don't enjoy taking part one bit!)

However, a small bladder never gives up and it's constantly looking for the chance to make its presence felt, or so it seems. In between my really seriously desperate times are a number of anxious, bursting incidents that have become a normal part of life for me. I am describing some of these so those of you with big bladders, (you lucky people!) can see how the other half lives.

1) Parents' Evening.
Usually a boring time when I would rather be at home doing something else, I got caught out last year. Maybe it was my own fault, drinking a cup of tea first, but on previous parent's evenings there had been time to 'take a break' and get to the loo if (when) I needed to. It was quiet to start with, then a sudden rush of parents and just at the time when I was wanting a wee.
Escorting two parents to the class-room door told me the worst, already a queue of three others waiting to see me.
Nothing for it but to sit down again as quickly as possible, this time with my heel pressing firmly between my legs, easing my bladder as best I could. Typically for me, knowing I could not go made it worse and I prepared myself for an hour of increasing desperation. Ten minutes later I was saved; a single mum shyly asking me where the ladies loo was at the end of our meeting.

I had thought that it was nervousness that had made her so fidgety, now I understood and grasping my chance, I told her it was easier to take her to the staff loos than give directions, making myself suffer walking the long way there to justify this. "Might as well go now I'm here." I said casually, but she was in too much of a hurry to go herself to care what I did.
After, I decided against making some comment about both of us having small bladders.

2) The Garden Centre
I had been to our local super-store with a friend and we had coffee there afterwards. I would have used the loo before leaving, but it was closed for cleaning and surely I would be OK for a fifteen minute drive home, even if I could feel the beginnings of a need to wee. Then Pam decided to stop at a garden centre and walking, plus knowing the loo was delayed, set my bladder off.
Soon I was bursting, taking every opportunity to stop and cross my legs and wishing that Pam would make up her mind and chose something. More delays as Pam could not find what she wanted, and tracked down an assistant to discuss alternatives. I knew there were no customer loos, but I was getting so desperate I was thinking of my own alternatives. How one cup of coffee could make me want to go so badly, so soon, was beyond logic, but that's my bladder.
I wandered off alone, seriously considering squatting behind a bush, but that really was wishful thinking. There were too many customers about and wearing jeans made it even more difficult.
I had to make do with enough privacy to hold between my legs. Legs knotted, pressing really hard, it seemed to push my wee back and give me some respite before I was really bursting again.
At last Pam was ready; she hadn't bought anything after all, so no delays paying or loading the plants and she was driving, so I could sit on my heel all the way home. A few tense minutes unloading and carrying my shopping indoors, then drop everything and run to the loo. Oh, the relief!

3) The Traffic Jam
Driving home from school along my usual route and suddenly a long queue of traffic. Annoying and un-explained, because the road had been clear that morning. Then I remembered that I had not been to the loo before leaving school, in fact, not for several hours and that did it. Almost immediately I wanted to go and knowing I couldn't only made it worse. Within minutes I was bursting and I could see no end to the traffic queue. At least being stopped allowed me to cross my legs, but that wasn't solving the problem. There wasn't anywhere I could get to a loo before home, not even in an emergency. I had no choice but to hold out and hope the traffic got moving quickly.
We were moving a few yards, then stopping again, some progress, but making it difficult to keep my legs crossed. I had to drive one handed, sitting on my right hand and pressing my fingers up between my legs. Unorthodox, but better than nothing in the situation, just keeping my bladder under control.
By the time I could see the cause of the queue, a burst water main, this wasn't enough and I was openly holding between my legs, not really caring if anyone could see. I tried telling myself that as there was nowhere I could possibly go, I just had to wait, but a nagging thought kept telling me nobody would see if I wet my pants in the car. Thankfully that wasn't necessary and I made it home, mainly driving one handed and being lucky with a parking space right outside my front door. Not for the first time I thought I should get an automatic car, so I could safely drive one handed in emergencies!

4) The Boating Lake.
Three of us took a rowing boat out for an hour. There wasn't a loo near the boathouse, which was worrying. I was OK for half an hour, then all that water was just too suggestive. Worse, I was taking the last turn to row, which compounded my misery.
Is there a worse position to be in when bursting?
I was wearing jeans and rowing I was sitting facing the other two, legs apart and having to strain on the oars. Thank goodness I am a proficient oars-woman, so I could row competently without thinking, concentrating on keeping my bladder under control. Nothing to help me at all, I just had to keep my muscles clenched tight and hope.
One of the others suggested we stayed out another hour, but there were people waiting, so I was spared that. Even being able to stand and cross my legs was a relief after the desperation of rowing, but it was ages before we found a loo and I had to use all my experience at walking when desperate to hold out.

Nicola.

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