And for Your 21st Wedding Anniversary...

This is a soiled sordid tale of excess and a lack of control.

Chapter 1:
Once upon a time, God decided to punish those of the female variety because Eve tricked an impressionable dude. He (God) figured menstruation, pregnancy, and menopause were good places to start. Then, throughout history, a number of additional--albeit, optional--female burdens were added to the mix: high heels, pantyhose, and underwire bras, just to name a few.

Chapter 2:
Pregnancy and childbirth. Talk about excellent reasons women get bent out of shape about the crap we have to deal with. For one thing, we literally are bent out of shape over this nearly yearlong process. And because no one can see what's happened to us internally, we get external stretch marks as a badge of honor. And if we decide to breastfeed, we get a little something extra: saggy boobs. Then, as the years go by, we're rudely reminded that we should have followed doctor's orders. Perhaps those Kegel exercises would have been a good idea, because it seems these days our pelvic floor muscles only show up for work when they feel like it.

And with a drip and drop our sordid soiled tale begins.

Chapter 3:
Hold that thought and picture this: We're seated at the kitchen table scrolling through Facebook. There's a tissue stuffed in our underwear because we coughed and they're damp, but not uncomfortable enough to warrant a change. Lo and behold, we come upon an ad with attractive women in their 30s or 40s, hanging out in their undies, holding beautiful babies, or outside striking yoga poses so the folks in the apartment building next door can see just how flexible they are and how great they look. Just a typical day.

These women are young, fresh and vibrant. And, it turns out they know what it's like to "Leak when you laugh. And squeeze when you sneeze."

They assure me that I can ditch the disposables and feel fresh as a rosé (I appreciate the wine reference) if I purchase Icon pee-proof undies. Not only are they fast-wicking, leak-resistant, odor-eliminating, and ultra-thin in their absorbency, but they have all the style and comfort of regular undies.

Most importantly, they hold up to 5 teaspoons of piddle.

Chapter 4:

You've made this remarkable discovery just as your husband walks by. Thinking of the tissue wadded up in your granny panties, you casually suggest he get you a pair of these Icon undies for Christmas. But Christmas comes and goes. He never was very interested in your "suggestions." You've forgotten about the undies. Until early January when they arrive in the mail, just in time for your wedding anniversary.

Because nothing says romance like pee protection panties.

Chapter 5:

My husband has a tendency to go all out when he finds something he knows (or assumes) I will like. There was the "12 rolls of film" birthday. And the "eight bottles of body lotion" Christmas. Turns out 2016 is the year of the anniversary panty. Actually, make that panties. Ten pairs to be exact.

Chapter 6:

My first outing in my Icon panties was to a birthday dinner with friends. Just us girls. And given my proclivity toward sharing that which I know other women may be dealing with (in an effort to make us all feel better about ourselves), I decided to share the exciting news about my undies. After a margarita, I even unzipped and showed a little skin. "Aren't they flattering?" I asked. Alas, there was no sneeze, cough or laughter with which to test them, but I was feeling good just knowing I was covered. So to speak.

Chapter 7:

The Amex bill arrives in the mail. I see a line for NY-Icon. $220. Did Rob hit some dance club the last time he was in the city? What the hell is Icon? I prepare the attack, and then it hits me. Icon. Undies.

"Holy shit! You mean to tell me you spent $220 on underwear for me? Is there gold woven into the absorbent crotch? What the hell were you thinking? And why in the world would you buy me 10 pairs if they were so freakin' expensive?"

He replies, "They were less expensive if you bought in bulk."

He knows I appreciate a good deal, so I can't argue with that logic.

Chapter 8:

We're at the movies and I need to go to the restroom. Or do I?

I have 30 days in which to pee in these suckers test these babies out. I can return them if they don't live up to my expectations.

I'm trying to visualize what five teaspoons looks like...

A Bitch and a Laugh

With apologies to poet T.S. Eliot, I would have to say that March is the cruelest month (Eliot bestowed that honor on April). In addition to the extremely crappy weather, in March I lost my dog, had sewage back up into my newly-finished basement, spent my children's college education on home expenses above and beyond expectations, and wrapped up the month with a sinus infection and bronchitis that left me bedridden for the better part of this past week. Still, I'm trying to keep it in perspective, count my blessings, yada, yada, yada. 

Since a real blog post isn't in the cards for me right now, I'm going to share this quite delightful bit from British writer, actor and self-described tall person, John Cleese. And if you need a movie to watch in between Phillies games this weekend, in tribute to Mr. Cleese, go rent "A Fish Called Wanda" and have a laugh for me (I'd do it myself but it still hurts too much).

ALERTS TO THREATS IN 2011 EUROPE : BY JOHN CLEESE
The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Libya and have therefore raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." The English have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from "Pissed Off" to "Let's get the Bastards." They don't have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing."  Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans have increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels .

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia , meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be alright, Mate." Two more escalation levels remain: "Crikey! I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend!" and "The barbie is canceled." So far no situation has ever warranted use of the final escalation level.

 -- John Cleese - British writer, actor and tall person