I recently introduced you to my sister, the Princess. However, I neglected to tell you about the laughing disorder specific to the females in our family. Simply put, we laugh til we pee. It’s uncontrollable, we can’t help it. I believe it is psychological rather than physiological; a form of hysteria rather than bladder dysfunction and similar in nature to the snorting laugh syndrome that causes the liquid you’re drinking to spurt from your nose.
The Princess has the most severe symptoms of this genetic laughing disorder. She laughs, cries and pees at the same time. I have seen a room full of strangers gasping with laughter because hers is so contagious and outrageous; none of them knew why they were laughing. Her daughter brings a change of clothes to family gatherings and my daughter runs around with her knees locked and her legs crossed when she starts laughing. Our nieces have the same symptoms and there appears to be little hope for our granddaughters.
We began her latest visit with vodka tonics on my dock peacefully watching the fish, turtles and birds. The next morning I introduced her to my favorite exercise routine, a walk along the Peace River. It was a leisurely walk because the Princess does not like to perspire. When we passed the playground, I took a picture of her with the cow statue. I have no idea why there is a statue of a cow in the playground next to the river. A manatee I could understand.
The Princess is a beautiful woman and very particular about photos only allowing posed shots. Every photo must be above the waist — the perfect angle (“Don’t show my butt!”), the perfect pose (“Don’t make me look fat!”), the perfect lighting (“Don’t make me look old!”), the perfect props (martini glass). She and the cow looked great.
She took a picture of me at the top of the children’s slide. Beyond reason I decided the fastest way back down was to slide.
The last time I went down this particular slide was on a hot afternoon with my granddaughter when I was so sweaty and sticky that my butt and thighs slowly stuttered down the slide. However, this ride was on a dew-covered, slippery as goose shit, wet slide. It happened so fast that I didn’t realize I was airborne until I made a five point (two heels, two hands and my ass), bone-jarring landing at least three feet past the end of the slide. And, if that wasn’t ignominious enough … I bounced on the foamy, squishy artificial turf.
I was stunned from the impact and the Princess was stunned by the swiftness and absurdity of the situation. “My camera wasn’t ready, can you do it again?” We started laughing. I’m talking fall down on the ground, rolling around holding our stomachs, can’t catch your breath howling. Two wet, broad beamed, mid-century girls screaming and hiccuping with laughter. The Princess gasped, “Stop, I’m gonna wet my pants!” We hooted like loons.
When we were finally able to stand up, I asked the Princess if the back of my pants looked wet. “Looks like you peed your pants”, she said. “I did”, I responded and we lost control. Too bad our daughters, nieces and granddaughters weren’t with us because then we’d have had enough panties and shorts to make up a full load of laundry.
It’s all fun and games until someone starts laughing.