Today, however, it's TMI Thursday sponsored by the lovely LiLu. I'm going to keep this one brief, but I'll make it up to you by sharing actual photos taken on the evening during which this tale is based.
This was about five years ago, I believe. My oldest son had just turned two and I had been working out like a fiend to drop the baby weight. I was especially motivated because my dear friend K was due to get married that June in Vegas, and I wanted to look decent for the bachelorette party and wedding festivities. I had finally pried myself into my "skinny" jeans (don't be too impressed, they're not size 6's) and was feeling pretty put-together, body-wise.
Please note that my son was just over 10 lbs. at birth, so things didn't exactly snap right back into place without
By the time the bachelorette party rolled around in May I was as buff as I get, which admittedly isn't all that buff. It was 25 months post-baby, I was wearing a smaller clothing size than I'd been wearing when I got pregnant, and I was definitely ready to blow off some serious steam with my old college friends.And blow off steam we did. Friday was pretty tame, but Saturday started with a picnic by Lake Champlain and lots and lots of chilled white wine. We were drunk by noon, so I don't remember too much about what we did that afternoon. I think we shopped, which explains why I have a lime green tank dress in my closet that I don't remember purchasing.
Anywho, that night we went to what used to be our favorite club. In college we'd always hit this club for a college band called Jusagroove; they played disco and funk and dressed up in classic 70's garb. The lead singer wore a massive afro, which I always thought was groovy.
Sadly Jusagroove is no more, but they still had disco night so we proceeded to turn that mutha out! We danced and drank and flirted 
Somewhere along our route the bride to be wound up climbing around in a fountain for some reason, and I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life. It was at this point that I realized that I really had to pee. I mean, really had to pee. Like, I should have gone yesterday. My soggy brain sent a signal to all body parts: Red Alert: Find a bathroom, or a shrub, or some sort of receptacle, immediately! Go! Go! Go!
I confided in one of the girls that things were getting urgent on the bathroom front, but she just said something to make me laugh harder. I was bent in half, legs crossed, trying to stop laughing when it happened.
I wet my pants.
Not a lot, at first; I managed to stop the flow after the first little spurt came out. But still... my undies were definitely wet, and I was mortified.
The next 10 minutes became a mad dash towards our hotel with everyone laughing and trying to make me laugh. The more I laughed the more tinkle came out, and before I knew it my jeans were wet and I knew my goose was cooked. Finally we found an alley way and I copped a squat with another girl and let 'er loose.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Sweet, sweet relief!
Somebody lent me her cardigan and I wrapped it around my waist like an apron to get back up to our room at the Crowne Plaza, and after I was clean and in my jammies we all had a good laugh over it. All's well that ends well, I guess. But still - not my finest moment. Nothing says classy like bringing your balled-up jeans and panties home from a party in a plastic bag.
That's all I got! See you tomorrow. Bring your party hats!