Dear 10-Year-Old Ingrid,
It’s snowing outside. Not the light, romantic, drizzly snow that you see in the movies. I’m talking ass biting, ice slipping, angry Canadian snow. The kind of snow that feels like you’re carrying four overweight children every time you lift a shovel full of snow off of your driveway. Yeah, exactly four. To note: I spent a good ten years of my life working the Haas family driveway and I miss those toned biceps every. single. day.
The snow is coming down hard and you know the second you get home from school, you’re going to have to shovel that mother of a driveway. After school is let out, you and your younger brother usually walk home together. Cute, right? No actually. It’s called “safety first”, get into it.
Well today you’re going to want to get out of it. You’re going to skip baby bro protection walk and you’re going to head over to the local candy store. Eff safety, hello sweets!
Oh no, you forgot to go to the restroom before you left school, didn’t you? Turn around and head back inside and let it flow, girl. Trust me, the sound of your own stream is far less humiliating than what is about to happen. You’re ten years old, I really shouldn’t have to remind you about the most basic life lesson: go when you gotta go, gurl.
The five minute walk to the store with a full bladder seems like nothing now. Know this: it’s something. Something bad.
You’ve got one dollar in your hand and you’re going to spend it like a wild woman in Willy Wonka land. OH NO! Your bladder, which was at one point whispering it’s need to be released, is now screaming at you. It’s pounding it’s bloody fists against your abdomen and it’s pissed off. There’s no turning back because there’s no time. It’s like your ability to “hold it in” has accelerated from 0-1000 in a matter of seconds. There’s nowhere to hide. You look down at the linoleum floor and realize that it’s about to become your porcelain goddess.
You look around the convenience store. There’s an older women perusing the milk section giving you the evil eye, like she knows you’re up to know good. Why can’t she help a little 10-year-old in need? Selfish old milk lady.
You crouch down, looking very intensely at the candy bars, and as you begin to kneel suddenly your thighs become warm and then in a matter of moments the entire ground beneath you is covered by a mustard hued liquid. Your eyes haven’t moved from the Twix bars. OH MY GOD. You are a 10-year-old woman, and you’ve just soiled the only candy store within miles of your home. Now what?
Without skipping a beat. You’re going to waltz up to that man behind the register and you’re going to confidently say:
“Excuse me sir, someone peed all over your floor over there, you better clean it up.” And then you’ll purchase that Twix bar like you weren’t the culprit. It’s as if you really believed someone else did it, not you. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was just sheer over confidence. Whatever it was, your future self wants a little bit of that.
And out you go, back home to that snow and that driveway. The confidence quickly fades as you shove the Twix bar down your throat and as your thighs begin to itch and sting.
Lucky for you, by the time you get home, your brother will have had finished all the driveway dirty work for the both of you. Your plan worked! Even if you had to piss your pants to get it done.
Your Future Self
Image Via: That Girl Kate