I’ve made a few vague references to peeing in my pants once or twice here, so the intuitive amongst you may have figured out that I (along with thousands millions of other women, so don’t judge) experience occasional bladder issues when sneezing or laughing or jogging or jumping on a trampoline.

There.  Now you all know.

It’s not a chronic problem or anything.  Just an occasional (and minor) condition that I sometimes feel the need to be prepared for.  So my shopping routine sometimes includes the purchase of panty-liner type products I lovingly call pee-pee pads.

I usually slip into Walgreen’s at an odd hour when the crowd is light and the chances are slim that I’ll bump into my priest or a neighbor and spare myself the awkward moment when they glance in my hand to see what I’m buying.

But today I needed school supplies and groceries and pee-pee pads, so I decided to be a big girl and go to Wal-Mart, where I could get everything I needed in one stop.

I scope the aisle I need to go down and, seeing no one I know, trot on swiftly to snatch what I need.  My plan is to do a slow-rolling grab, then proceed to the shampoo aisle to calm my nerves.  From there I’ll compose myself and continue shopping.

I get to the spot for my grab-and-go, but alas, the product I need is on the top shelf with only a few remaining, pushed back far beyond my reach.

Damn.

I go around the aisle to look at this predicament from a different angle, hoping to spot a misplaced package of what I need on a lower shelf.  Nothing.

I stand there.  Staring.  As if my glare and presence are going to make the packages move to a shelf within my 5’2” reach.  Still nothing.

I glance around, and notice a really tall older man on the next aisle. Perhaps I could ask him for help.  (He’s much older, and probably won’t think anything of it when I asked him to hand me a package of pee-pee pads.)  Nope.  Not gonna happen.

Can I stand on a lower shelf and try to reach it myself?  (Visual: me lying on the ground after the shelf falls on top of me, surrounded by neighbors and friends, covered with hundreds of packages of incontinence products.)  Nope.  Not gonna happen.

So I make another lap around the aisle looking for solutions.  (Lo and behold, the aisle next to the pee-pee pads is full of geriatric products.  Hmmm.)  I pull a cane off the rack of geriatric aides, and (shrugging off all previous anxiety) use the cane to pull the package I need to the edge of the shelf where I can stand on my tip-toes and reach it.

Smugly, and with a sense of accomplishment, I put the pads into my cart and turn around to return the cane to the next aisle.  The man I had considered asking for help was now nearby.  “You had to get creative?” he said.  I gathered a smiled and managed a little laugh, returned the cane, and high-tailed it to the grocery section.

I gotta find a web site where I can order this stuff online.