I think I just had my most embarrassing moment.

(This is a true story that happened yesterday. I typed it just moments afterward.)

“Push fluids. Drink water like it’s going out of style.” <= This is the advice my dear friend (who is a doctor) gave me to help clear up my sinus infection.

So, on my way to see the ENT, I stopped by CVS and got a 1.5 liter bottle of Ozarka water.

I got in my car, set the ginourmous bottle in my lap, unscrewed the cap…

And spilled a massive amount of water right between my legs. …while wearing shorts. …that were Khaki: The world’s only material that can hide no stain – not. even. water.

Well, that’s not what I meant to do, I  thought. I faced two options:

  1. Go home and miss this appointment that took me six weeks to get into.
  2. Go to a medical complex I had never been to, up the elevator, into the office, through the waiting room – in front of a bunch of people who are going to think I peed my pants.

I chose #2. And desperately hoped I wouldn’t pass a soul. And that the lights would be dim.

I mean, I am six months pregnant – there isn’t a chance on earth they are going to think I ‘spilled’ my water.

‘Poor girl,’ they’ll think. ‘I bet that baby is right on her bladder. Must be going to see the urologist.’

I debated with myself  with each person I passed, ‘Do I tell them it’s only water? What if they suffer from incontinence and really are going to see the urologist? Would I just offend them?’

I chose not to tell…Hesitantly. Very hesitantly. The words were just waiting inside my cheeks – wanting to burst forth from my pursed lips. But I held my tongue.

I shimmied passed 6 people in the lobby while trying to strategically hold my purse to cover the water.

Oh, and all the while I really did have to use the restroom like there was no tomorrow. Because remember? My doctor friend told me to drink water like it was going out of style? And I listened?

I made it into the elevator. Of course, there were three people in there. I smiled politely and quietly backed into the corner.

I stepped out of the elevator, walked down the long hall and finally made it to my destination.

I opened the heavy door to the cold, sterile, tile waiting room – that had really bright fluorescent lights. Twenty-one people crowded the twenty-eight seat room. (Yes, I counted. I was so flabbergasted by the ridiculousness of my situation that I knew if I didn’t keep careful record of each event, no one would believe my retelling.) With limited magazines, all 21 all were watching Toy Story on the flat-screen TV. The very TV I would now have to walk directly in front of in order to get to the reception desk.

And just wait, the worst part of the story is yet to come.

I slipped through the waiting area to the desk. I considered, again, making an announcement that I just spilled my water. But I had gained enough attention.

I filled out the paper work while trying to hold my bladder as best as I could. I longed to plea the receptionist to point me to the nearest bathroom. But that would only make me look worse.

I turned the papers in, and as nonchalantly as I could, asked where the restroom was.

Of course it was back by the elevators.

And so I went. Traipsing back across the waiting room – in front of the TV. Out the door. And started down the long, narrow, you-can’t-avoid-a-single-person hallway.

‘She looks familiar,’ I thought, as I passed a very put-together woman in business attire.

I smiled and nodded, but bee-lined down the long hallway for the bathroom.


As I exited the ladies’ room and turned into the hall, I noticed the well-dressed woman hadn’t moved from her position – which was about 3/4 the way between where I now stood and the ENT’s door I was to enter. I knew I’d have to pass her again. Only now, a man joined her – and an elderly couple.

I continued to walk.

As I got closer, I realized the man had a camera. The woman had a microphone. The couple was being interviewed.

The well-dressed woman I ‘just knew I recognized’ was a reporter – conducting a news interview.

Of course.

At this point, there was nowhere I could go but forward. I was already in the camera shot , and if I turned around – back toward the bathroom – it would certainly only make me more obvious.

So there I walked, down the length of the long, four-foot-wide hall – all while in the camera shot…

looking like I wet my pants.

I squeezed myself between the camera and the wall to pass by, shook my head in disbelief, and entered the waiting room – where I now sit, typing this incredible moment in time, with my laptop in my lap, desperately trying cover the water on my shorts.

I wish I had a more profound reason for sharing this, but I really don’t. Just hope it brightened your day. I mean, at least you weren’t on the news looking like you peed your pants.


10 thoughts on “I think I just had my most embarrassing moment.

  1. Ahhhhh! Been there, done that while pregnant too… Minus the video camera… But add in my husband’s boss. (we all worked in a hospital at the time). Glad you can maybe laugh a little now!

  2. Oh my word!!! I’m sooooo sorry!!! What are the chances…a news camera!!! You’re right, at that point you can do nothing but throw your hands up and laugh!!! And maybe shout “I give up”…with a smile!!

  3. Oh Bre’anna, your awesome. I laughed all the way through your story. My family has been going through what will probably be the hardest time of our lives and i really needed to laugh. Thank you. With God’s grace we will make it through…and you will no doubt look back on this moment in time, shake your head and giggle a little.

  4. I had an embarassing moment yesterday too. I was leaving the ladies restroom at work and in walked a person that looked like a man. I said “You are in the ladies room”. The person responded back with “Yes, that is where I am suppose to be.” I stopped and looked around thinking “he” was a maintenance man, but she went inside a cubicle and shut the door. I was so embarrassed that I opened my mouth.

  5. I had to comment after reading Cyndi’s mortifying moment. Bless your heart! I think that might be worse than asking a woman with a rounded belly (who isn’t pregnant) when she’s due 😉 I just pray you don’t run into s/he anytime soon!

  6. Oh, Sweet Bre’anna — I nearly peed MY pants reading your hilarious story – I mean really, what are the chances of you being on live t.v.?! So, what I’m really curious about is…have you looked for a video on the local news channels with you in the background – wet britches and all?? If you find it, please share – that would be the cherry on top of this all-too-funny story. You’re one brave Lady and even braver for blogging about it! LOL I just love this story, thanks for sharing.

  7. Bre’anna you are a crack up! You are one brave woman to walk in there and follow through with that appt. What are the chances that a live interview would be happening in the lobby of a doctor’s office! Thanks for the chuckles!

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