Jum-peeing.

Dear Diary, 

     
     This weekend, my family and I went to my hometown of Albuquerque, NM to attend the International Balloon Fiesta and visit loved ones. While there, we were at my uncle's house, who happens to own a trampoline. The inner child in me, full of pent up energy that needed to be exerted, kept being powerfully drawn to that dangerous black sheet of bounciness and wires that has been known to chip teeth, crack skulls and snap necks. I gave into my temptation to jump, and snuck outside without my kids and husband. I jumped once, and immediately felt the insides of my entire lower abdomen start to come loose. I jumped again, and I was pretty sure I had just peed my pants. That, or given birth to one of my lady parts. With a turned up lip and head cocked to the side, I jumped again...just to see. Another droplet headed south. Two more jumps and I was positive I had Lake Tahoe in my underpants. I waddled back inside as carefully as possible. My mom, who was also at my uncle's house at the time, asked me why I had been so quick to get off the trampoline. Everyone in the kitchen was listening. I told them, then made the walk of shame to the bathroom with voices of laughter behind me. Although in the end, it was no Lake Tahoe, it was instead a sobering reality of my aging body. I wish I could say that was the end of it, but I was in denial. At the park that afternoon, I hopped onto a high bar and tried to do a flip. I ended up with half-blistered hands, a newfound realization that I was indeed no longer the flexible person I once was, and a goal to get rid of my skintertube. And I have one last goal: it starts with a "k" and ends in "egel". I better get cracking.

Sincerely, 

Me.