Here’s Why I Peed My Pants

I’m a pants peer when overcome with too strong of emotions. I come from a long line of pants peers.

If we laugh too hard, the uncontrollable peeing our pants happens. It sucks, but also, hilarious. Most of the time, this happens when I laugh way too hard at something I find over the top funny. It doesn’t just happen, though. It goes in stages, much like the heat factor of Scoville scale.

There’s the smirk, the laugh, the cry and then, oh no…the dreaded and finding humor at my own expense “I just pissed my pants” and there’s nothing I can do to control or stop it. It just happens.

The uncontrollable wasn’t always rooted in humor, though. When I was a kid, the peeing was out of fear. Predatorial fear, like the fight or flight kind. But in my case, the pee all over yourself kind of trepidation and it was very real.

When I was a kid, I thought that my Granny could protect me from anything. She was my heroine until the day she died at 80 ½ years young.

I had a problem as a kid with trying to pet every animal I saw. Not much has changed in this arena, however, and I found myself repeatedly in bad situations as a kid because of it. I was chased by a pack of dogs once.

My aunt had gotten my cousin a life-sized glow in the dark skeleton, because it was close to Halloween and she was rad like that. My cousin brought it to our horse pasture because who doesn’t want to have a skelly friend to tag along, right?

It was dark and Mr. Skelton was doing his glow thing. He looked amazing, to say the least. However, the pack of dogs next door to our horse pasture didn’t think so highly of him. Their job was to protect the concrete company and keep unwanted visitors after hours out. They did their job quite well.

My cousin and I had the joy of riding on the hood of the car to the gate to open it for the car’s driver. It was slow and fun and we loved the hell out of our “job”. Of course, Mr. Skeleton was with us, flapping around, back and forth in the October wind, all of us oblivious to the stress Mr. Skeleton was putting on “guard dog team six” next door.

Needless to say, the dogs came to our horse pasture and straight to the enemy who was causing their panic – Mr. Skeleton and two little girls, that happened to be me and my cousin.

I ran. No, I ran like the wind. I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me, fear pushing me forward. I peed my pants the entire way until I found myself knocking my Granny out of her lawn chair to protect me from the dogs who were on my heels.

My poor cousin was worried that the horses were going to get out, so she stood there holding the gate and Mr. Skeleton and got bit. It was not a fun night.

This was not the first time pee found it’s way down my leg at the horse pasture. I have great memories of this place but peeing your pants twice out of fear does something to you.

My next run in was with this adorable chick. I saw him and I just had to pet him. I kept calling him towards me with the sweet child voice of “here, chicky, chicky” in hopes he would stride over and let me hold him and pet him.

Not a chance.

A different aunt appeared and gave her warning of God’s creatures. “Angie, leave him alone. Stop calling him over to you or you’re going to be sorry.”

I couldn’t help myself. He was just too damn cute. I completely ignored her advice because I apparently like to do life the hard way.

What I didn’t know was what I was calling over to me was a young Banty rooster. If you’re unfamiliar with fowl, Banty roosters are mean. They have spurs on tehri legs that will destroy anything that comes into contact.

The next thing I knew, that “chick” had his head down and was chasing me screaming.

I ran. Maybe I learned from the dogs, but I knew what was about to happen. This guy wanted to attack and I wasn’t going to let him.

He chased me around the square enclosure where we all sat when we wanted reprieve from the horses. I was so scared, I peed my pants and kept running. I ran until I just couldn’t anymore.

About that time, I was saved by a brave cowboy who launched that rooster over the square enclosure, locking him inside. I cried and cried. It was many years later before I tried to pet anything, and never have trusted a rooster again.

Emotion makes us do strange things. Some of us piss our pants.