Idon't mean to brag, but Ipretty much know the location of every restroom in every store within a 10 mile radius of my house. Between a potty-training kid last summer and my ever-shrinking bladder this winter, I've become somewhat of a porcelain throne aficionado, if you will. Acommode connoiseur. Within 30 seconds of walking into a joint, I can case the most direct route to the bathrooms and usually also whether you're looking at a multi-stall option or a one-seater situation. I also could probably develop a pretty sophisticated ratings system based on average cleanliness, but at this point in my pregnancy I don't really care about that. My main priority is a
functional toilet. (Closing door and toilet paper optional. I mean, that's what they made travel Kleenex for, am I right?) Conditions are that dire. The relationship between me and my urogenital tract has morphed from peaceful co-habitation to a dictatorship. It's a bladder-controlled regime up in here.
Can hold it longer than Ican.
In all seriousness, have you seen the sorry state of a 30-week pregnant woman's bladder? Iremember during my first pregnancy staring in horror at this giant poster on the wall of the midwife's office that showed a cross-section of a female's anatomy before and during pregnancy. ALLTHETHINGSGETSMUSHED. Because by the end, there is a baby-sized … well, baby where all your organs used to be. I tried to find a similar graphic representation to share here for reference, but couldn't find any suitable enough, so Idrew my own (incredibly medically accurate) version:
This, of course, is before pregnancy. Look at everything!Floating around with all kinds of real estate!Those intestines don't know how good they have it. And the bladder? Oh, I remember the ol' glory days of 20-ounce Diet Cokes and a full-night's sleep with a leisurely stumble toward the bathroom in the morning. Sayonara bladder space. Baby needs a place to put his noggin, and your territory's it:
Have you ever seen anything so ridiculous? How's a girl supposed to eat? Not to mention go more than three minutes without feeling the need to pee? Here at the P&Noffices, the bathrooms are stationed down the hall from where we work. Already I've had the pleasure of trekking down to the ladies' room, doing my business, rearranging all my panels and ruching back into some semblence of a normal outfit, washing my hands, starting back and then having to turn right back around before Iwas even halfway to my desk because I had to go again.Sometimes, pregnancy is just straight up dumb.
On the bright side, my hands have never been cleaner.
This is one aspect of pregnancy that I will definitely not miss in any way whatsoever. Baby kicks (slash pummels, these days)—sure. Glossy thick hair, totally. Cleavage?YES. But I've got approximately 934259583217 better things to do than waddle down the hall every seven minutes of the day in a mad rush for the loo, so tinybladderitis? You can take a hike. Don't let the (bathroom) door hit you on the way out.