As we get older it’s a fact of life that some things just don’t work as well as they used to. I’ve always been an active person but the activity has been slowed down in recent years or has been replaced by less strenuous activities. This is probably too much information for some people but basic toilet functions begin to be a bit of a problem, too.
At first, it’s nothing that can’t be coped with. It‘s just that the gate keepers at the business ends of the colon and urethra get a little sloppy in their functions with the later years. There is going to be a leak every now and then.
Women past menopause might have thought that they were done with sanitary pads. Then they learn about peezers. Those happen when a person suffers a normal involuntary sneeze and pees at the same time. Hence, the noun, peezer is coined.
Men seem less prone to have peezers. However, as they grow older the force of the flow lessens and they’re fooled into putting the little man away before his job is completed. The next thing that the old codger knows, the warmth of unfinished business is soaking into his boxers and trousers down the inside of his leg.
Can you imagine having this happen while dining out in a nice restaurant? It would seem an extra long walk back to your table with the evidence of your mishap at just below eye level of every diner that you pass by. If the embarrassment wasn’t enough, a small child might point and say in pure innocence, “Look Mama. That man peed in his pants.”
Wearing briefs instead of boxers could help lessen the effects of this problem. There is a reason why men’s briefs have two thick layers of knit cotton in the front panel. The trouble is that a lot of older men prefer boxers because it gives them something to do when they have their hands in their pockets.
This rekindles memories of the years in middle school or junior high. An adolescent boy’s interest in a budding young girl might manifest in the swollen form of the soldier pressing out in a bulge from the inside of his jeans. Then the bell rings. That’s when every discreet young man goes to his next class carrying his school books in front of him instead of on his hip.
Then there is back door leakage. That can happen in different ways. Squat or bend to pick up something kind of heavy up and be aware that the rear gate might pop open. Sometimes, browns sneak out with the wind, too.
Could you imagine if your body parts could talk? The butt cheeks would be cussing the sphincter for letting any of the browns slip by without the butt blanket lowered and with no Charmin in reach.
What about people suffering from dementia-type illnesses? It could be quite a personal dilemma at end of the day when you find streaks in your skivvies. You could get into quite an argument with yourself for trying to remember if you forgot to wipe or you forgot to get in proper position before you dropped the bomb.
An old people version of those pull-up type things that toddlers wear could solve the problem. I wouldn't like wearing pull-ups though. I’m still more of a boxer type of guy. I wear boxers… or… I wear nothing at all. I’m not bundling my boys in briefs. I wonder if that could work out for you in convalescent home. Probably not, I suppose.
Those places are usually all about conforming. I can picture Nurse Ratchet saying, “No, Mr. McMurphy. We simply can’t let you and some of the men go without pull-ups because you want to dangle your dilly all of the time. That wouldn’t be fair to the other men, now would it?
Maybe somebody will invent a strap-on honey pot complete with a padded seat before I lose my wits. An old codger could just sit around on one of those all day while playing checkers. The only bad thing would be if a person forgot that the honey pot was strapped to their butt.
They might stand up and spill poo-poo all over the back of their knees if they weren’t paying attention. In that event, you wouldn’t need any toilet paper anyway. A garden hose would be more effective.
You wouldn’t have to worry about one of those automatic flushers going off before you finish the job either. I lost a nice pair of designer silk boxers to one of those things once? I started to stand and, swoosh, my skivvies where gone.