I Forgot To Clench

You had one job, Berman. One. And you blew it! You blew it. 

I have a career, but my job is to clench every muscle in my body right before I sneeze. You see, I’ve given birth to two children, and when that happens, you can’t expect to sneeze without wetting yourself. Nobody told me this before I had kids. They said, “It’ll be great! Have kids! You’ll go to Buy Buy Baby and buy buy strollers!” They said, “Your body will change, but you’ll learn to love what your body can do!” They said nothing about incontinence in the workplace. They said nothing about having to carry extra underwear in the glove compartment of your own car.

See the clenching approach to preventing peeing on yourself in public really depends on knowing what kind of a sneezer you are. You have to be self-aware. Are you a one-and-done sneezer? That’s optimal. You’ll only be clenching for a few seconds. But if you’re a two-fer or you nasal spasm in threes, or more, you’re in trouble. It’s very hard to hold a full-body clench between sneezes. You have to hold the clench THE WHOLE TIME, even in the pauses. This means you are basically making diamonds out of your own turds up inside your colon. 

But this is what I have to do. Because I’m a triad sneezer. So when the urge to sneeze comes on, I gird myself. Sometimes I even hold on to something to brace myself and clench hard, not unlike bracing for impact before an asteroid hits the earth and you expected it.

So what happened to me? If I’m so used to clenching, so accepting of this facet of my being now, how could I have forgotten my one job?

Well, here it is: I was on vacation. I was on vacation! With my husband and NO KIDS! In Europe! It was like the thing I had wished for every second of the last seventeen years was happening! It was a lovely day and we were in an enchanted garden. The mists of Avalon seemed to be rolling in, and the stone statues were giving me these kind, knowing looks. I thought to myself, “It’s like Lord of the Rings has come to life. And the elves are going to welcome me into their fold.” And truth be told, I was so enchanted I decided I would accept their protection and join them. Even if I had to put out to satisfy some weird elfen sex hazing, I would become elfen.

I was thinking about growing my hair long and the upper arm bracelets I would now look normal in, when I felt the familiar tickle of invaders in my nasal cavity. Before I could clench every muscle and organ I had access to, the salty breeze, and the view, and the aroma of grilled sardines and the best coffee you could ever conceive of, all of it came over me, and I. DID. NOT. CLENCH. I didn’t clench! I just sneezed three times in a row like some pedestrian jerkwad who can do whatever the hell they want. I could have clenched after the first sneeze. But did I? No. Because it was all already in motion! It was unfolding like a slow/fast dream/nightmare, and I saw it happening and also was powerless to change its course.

And did it feel good to sneeze like that, so many times, just spraying the ferns with nostril refuse? It did! Sneezing in that beautiful garden was the middle aged woman equivalent of an undergrad spring break orgy. I’m trying to tell you that it was the catharsis I didn’t know I needed. Sneezing amidst all those succulents? Letting go of my pelvic floor while surrounded by bromeliads? Am I dead and in heaven??

The spasm of joy–that apex of glory achieved only by a clenchless sneeze I know now–was brief. Because it was only seconds until I realized I had watered the enchanted garden entirely by myself. And then I had a very long walk, uphill and soggy, the enchanted garden instantly demystified. 

What to take from that beautiful and horrifying moment? For some reason, my brain wanted me to pee myself in that garden. I could blame some unconscious urge for self-punishment that lies within. It’s not a stretch considering my cultural background.

I could also blame the Portuguese. Afterall, it was their garden. I could definitely blame my children, who are now teenagers. Because this state I’m in, like my ruined sheet pans, broken Fiestaware, and stained furniture, is technically their fault. But I am not going to do that. I’m not going to blame anyone and I’m certainly not going to talk about how I daily contend with peeing myself to two surly teens who are already on the fence about talking to me. 

I’m going to just say, I, like Liv Tyler’s elfen character in Lord of the Rings, had a momentary dereliction of duties. I got carried away. And it has only made me appreciate the full body clench that much more. I’m back, vigilant as ever, for my one job.