Urination humiliation

Even wearing two pairs of underpants
for such an eventuality
that will be briefly recounted
in the following lines
(videlicet unable to stave off
the tsunami like force to Micturate)
in retrospect (since the incident
to be described occurred
on November 21st, 2025)
initially pissed me off,
but after uncontrollably wetting myself
(all the way thru the seat of my sweatpants),
I decided to share a realization that yours truly
might seriously need to consider
sporting attends for adults,
but thank dog no colostomy bag
(a medical pouch used to collect stool
that drains from the colon
through a surgically created opening
in the abdomen called a stoma
necessary when a person's bowel
can no longer function normally,
often due to conditions like colon cancer,
Crohn's disease, or after certain surgeries,
which pouch is attached
to a skin barrier or flange
that surrounds the stoma,
collecting waste that exits the body
through the stoma instead of the anus.

Unlike being a baby,
or incapacitated with mobility issues
(countless scenarios could be enumerated
from being rendered non-ambulatory),
I would change my own adult diaper
upon accessing a public bathroom,
or if in the car driving back to the man cave
(as occurred upon aforementioned date)
waiting until reaching the destination
i.e. Highland Manor Apartments
to shutterfly myself
behind the locked toilet stall
and remove the heavy saturated adult nappy,
which true the commercials
(avoided mutiny on the bounty,
re: "The Quicker Picker Upper")
absorbed the contents of the bladder
analogous to an ink blotter
(a tool used to absorb excess ink
from a freshly written page, preventing smearing)
and breathing a sigh of relief
that the car
(feeling self important
and twittering away to myself
like being in my own catbird seat)
stayed free and clear of uric acid,
a waste product formed
when the body
breaks down substances called purines,
which are found in the body
and in certain foods,
which normally dissolves in blood,
travels to the kidneys,
and then eliminated
from the body in urine.

Unlike instances when dreaming
about peeing in a urinal,
(and finding the bedsheets sopping wet,
which wakes me up when it's all over
in a groggy stupor -
again despite wearing
two pairs of undergarments
plus street clothes
that double up as pajamas),
I hide the pièce (piss) de résistance
with my tushy so the wife
does not reprimand me
for an uncontrollable accident,
and I thank dog
yours truly did not poop
but that eventuality may come to pass.