Have you ever had that dream where you need to go to the bathroom so badly that you piss yourself in public? No? Really?!? Just me then, huh? Well that’s embarrassing. Imagine, if you can, what it would be like if that came true. And not just anywhere. Of course not. Imagine if it happened in HIGH SCHOOL.
My story is humiliating and painful, but looking back on it, I think the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t that it happened, more the repercussions that I had to live with afterwords.
I was a typical introverted artistic type in school. I was always sitting in class and writing away on stories and anything else I thought about instead of paying attention. As you can probably tell, I wasn’t the greatest student in school. I had long since given up on my grades and making friends, and was just managing to stay above water. My home life sucked, I didn’t have a job to escape to yet, and the only thing I was passionate about was reading lurid romances and writing the stories I saw in my head.
I was, let’s put it gently, I was very chubby. I was five feet zero inches and about 150 throughout high school. I was not someone that liked exercise and I wasn’t active enough to make up for my eating habits. So you can probably imagine that my hell on earth in high school was gym.
I had a love/hate relationship with school as it gave me plenty of time to write, but there was this pesky subject that I couldn’t get out of every year that precluded me from pursuing my “hobbies” as one of my teachers put it.
I hated gym. I hated everything about it. I hated getting hot. I hated getting sweaty. And I absolutely hated that the locker room/bathrooms looked like they should be condemned. I normally used one of the bathrooms before going to gym and I had never had a problem with it until that day.
My math teacher had pulled me aside after class and was advising me that if I kept “zoning out” and not paying attention in class, that I would fail and have to make up the course in summer school. I listened to him go on and on about my lack of discipline and my disrespect for his teaching and subtly danced my “gotta pee, gotta pee” dance.
I had drunk a big bottle of water in his class and was now feeling the effects of it. The bell would be ringing at any moment and if I didn’t make it to the locker room before then, I would be running suicides for quite a while before our coach would let me back into her grace.
I was cutting it close and I knew I needed to get to class, so finally I interrupted my algebra teacher and reminded him the bell would be ringing any second and I had another class. He glared at me as if it were my fault before waving me away.
I took off a run. I was going to have to brave the scary bathrooms in the locker room if I even had a chance of getting everything done. I was panting by the time I slid the gym doors open and ran in just as the bell rang. The coach glared at me and looked at her watch as if she wanted me to know I was wasting her valuable time by not being in my gym clothes and out in front of her already.
I put my head down and walked/ran towards the locker room when the coach called out, “you have one minute to get dressed and be in front of me, Ms. Miller, or I will see you in detention.”
I whipped around so fast, my hair smacked me in the face as I stuttered, “C-Coach Sanders, I need the bathroom, ma’am.” The rest of the class snickered as my face filled with heat from my blush and the coach stood there glaring at me.
“You should have thought of that before you strolled in here when the bell rang. Now go get dressed.”
I opened my mouth and pleaded, “Coach, I REALLY need to go.” I was back to doing my pee dance.
The coach had already been turning away when she heard me and spun around so quickly, I was surprised her hair didn’t slap her too. She stomped over to me and shouted, “Unless you want detention for the next month, go in there and get dressed right now! I don’t tolerate insolence in my class and I don’t care to hear how you REALLY need to go when you’re late to begin with! Maybe if you had stopped messing around with your friends before class, and acted more like an adult, you wouldn’t be in this mess, now MOVE IT!”
I wanted so badly to say something, anything, but authority figures freaked me out and finally I just stared at her unnaturally red face from her anger I would guess and nodded. I put my head down and ran to the locker room. I quickly shimmied into my gym clothes as I bit back tears and looked longingly towards the bathroom stalls. Just as I was contemplating running in there and doing my business anyway, the coach opened the door and shouted, “Minute’s up, Miller, get out here!”
I closed my eyes and prayed to all the gods out there that I made it through class without embarrassing myself and ran back to the gym. The coach glared at me some more then looked over the other students. “I had planned to have y’all play a nice, friendly game of dodgeball, but now I think the best thing for everyone is to run. I want you all to complete a mile run on the track outside for your exercise today. Once completed, you may use the rest of the period to study. Go, go, GO!”
The other students glared at me as if it was my fault and I refused to meet anybody’s eyes. I wanted to die. Not only did I need to use the bathroom like you wouldn’t believe, I was also the slowest runner/walker in the class. I would never make it without having an accident. The students made their way outside into the sweltering Texas weather and began to move to the outdoor dirt track that we used. I used the moment to plead for mercy.
“Coach Sanders, please. I didn’t get a chance to use the bathroom before your class because my algebra teacher wanted to speak to me, and I really need to go. If I have to run a mile, I’m going to mess myself and it’ll only take a moment for me to pee. Please.” I begged.
Sanders looked me up and down and squinted. She was a pretty, blond haired angel faced woman, but at that moment, she looked like the devil with her squinty eyes and full blown scowl she was wearing. Opening her mouth, she blasted me, “You need to learn to respect your teachers, Miller. I said NO and I mean NO! Maybe you will finally have the motivation to finish somewhere other than dead last. Get moving!”
I was so angry I was shaking. My eyes burned with useless tears and I wanted to hit her more than I ever wanted to “disrespect” a teacher before. Instead, I went out into the heat and started jogging the course. It was more a dirt field with little markers to let you know where to turn and when you could head back. Most of the class was already way ahead of me, and I forced myself to grit my teeth and keep moving, even though by this time I didn’t just need to go, it was becoming increasingly painful to hold it in.
I had slowed to a walk by the time I approached the halfway mark of the track. I was about as far from the school as you could get and clenching my thighs together was not cutting it. I looked around desperately as if there might be a portapotty that just magically appeared. I knew disaster was imminent.
Just as I went into the turn I could feel my bladder loosen. I stifled a sob and but down on my bottom lip so hard, I drew blood. It didn’t help. I hastily looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that none of the other sophomores were around to witness my humiliation. They were already far ahead of me and some of them were no doubt already finished.
I squatted just in time. I couldn’t bear to bring myself to take off my clothes and flash my bare ass at anyone that might happen upon me so I just finally let go and peed myself, my gym clothes and a little bit of my shoes, I think. I cried the whole time. I couldn’t believe my teacher would allow this to happen! I finally finished peeing like there was no tomorrow and moved over onto the grass and sat down with my legs bent in front of me and my arms wrapped around my knees. I laid my head down on my arms and cried a little more. How was I supposed to go back to class with my clothes filthy and wet and not let anyone see?
I didn’t think about the fact that I was still pretty moist and that I was sitting down, I just knew that my underwear were soaked along with my shorts and I didn’t want to face my class with any of this going on.
Suddenly I heard, “Hey, you all right?” I looked up quickly and met the kind blue eyes of a fellow classmate. I nodded slowly, wiping away my tears. The girl looked me over slowly then said, “You better get up. The bell’s going to ring soon and you don’t want to make the coach even angrier.”
I nodded numbly, knowing as soon as I stood, she would see the state I was in, but apathy was slowly flooding through me and I couldn’t bring myself to care. Soon enough the whole class would see what I had done, what did it matter if she got a little preview?
I got up and walked over to her, unable to meet her eyes. I could feel her studying me and I wondered briefly if she could read the shame and humiliation I was swamped in. She finally stepped forward and walked away without a word.
I made myself stroll towards the gym in no hurry now to let my humiliation be known. Just as I reached it, it was like an answer to my prayers. The bell rang for the next period. I knew everyone would be leaving to rush to their next class, so I waited a few moments before running to the locker room. I made quick work of taking off my soiled shorts and throwing them away. Honestly, I never wanted to see them again.
I pulled on my jeans, feeling the discomfort of my still wet underwear, but not thinking it through. All I knew was relief that I hadn’t been caught by my fellow students. I pulled on the rest of my clothes and ran out of there as fast as I could, not caring to even see, much less speak to the coach.
I made in with about a minute to spare to my next class. As soon as I sat down, I knew it was a mistake to have left my underwear on. The remnants of my “incident” was soaking my jeans and the smell of urine was becoming increasingly noticeable. I jumped up to run to the bathroom again, but the teacher walked in just as the bell rang.
The girl next to me sniffed and turned to me, “What’s that smell?” She asked, still sniffing and making a disgusted face for a moment. I tried to play it off. “I don’t smell anything.” I said, and turned to the front of the room, ready to raise my hand and ask for a hall pass to go to the bathroom.
That was when the class asshole, said loudly, “What the hell is that smell?!? It smells like a urinal in here.” I sank down in my seat hoping no one would notice. The girl beside me jerked her head around to stare at me for a moment and she must have seen my blush because she laughed and said, “It’s Jessica! She must have pissed herself.”
The class started laughing and the asshole looked over and sneered, “Aww, did wittle Jessi have an accident? I didn’t know we were in kindergarten.”
I bowed my head as all the feelings of shame and humiliation rose up again as the class started throwing out other comments. Someone asked me if I wore depends. Another jeered that I needed to get back in my cradle. Yet another declared I must wet the bed too. It went on and on. The teacher finally shouted for order and the class quieted.
She studied me for a moment and then said, “Ms. Miller, why don’t you go clean up? When you get back, you can also clean your chair.” I don’t think she meant it in a disparaging way, but the class burst into laughter again. I stood and made my way to the door when I hear it for the very first time, “Skedaddle, Miss PissyPants. Maybe next time you shouldn’t forget your diapers.”
Tears filled my eyes and overflowed as I pushed the door open and ran down the hall to the sound of my classmates laughter. I went tearing down the halls and didn’t stop for anything until I reached my car. I couldn’t do this. All I wanted was to get away. I was so done with that day. For the first time in a long while, I just skipped the rest of the school day. I went home, took a hot shower and cried myself to sleep.
It took tremendous courage to go to school the next day. I fixed myself up in the cutest outfit I had, put on makeup, curled my hair, the whole shebang. I was hoping that if I acted like nothing had happened, others would take the cue from me and forget about it. I could hope anyway.
When I got there, I started walking to the front doors when I heard it again, “Yo, Miss PissyPants! Did you remember your depends?” Everyone outside began laughing and I ran up the rest of the steps to the doors, opened them, and ran to my locker. I refused to cry. It would just make the teasing that much worse.
I went to the library to hide out and that’s when one of my only sort of kinda friends found me. She whispered that the whole school knew about “Miss PissyPants” and she asked if I had really wet myself in class. I just stared at her until she muttered sorry and left.
I never lived down that nickname. It followed me for the rest of my high school journey and to this day still makes me cringe. But what really sticks with me? The coach never once apologized. Never acknowledged that she did anything wrong. She never again called on me either. It was like I didn’t exist in her class. I don’t know if that made it better or worse, but it sure didn’t stop the many tears I shed.
So there you have it. A brief glimpse into the most mortifying moment of my life. I’d like to say I learned something from it, but the only thing it taught me was to never drink water at school again. I wish I could have made this story funny and heartwarming by overcoming and rising above the bullying and the humiliation that happened, but that wouldn’t be the truth. High school was the lowest point in my life and I was glad to finish it.
About the Creator
Where do I start? I have been writing stories my whole life, it feels like. I remember being around 11 when I found books. And it’s all been amazing since then. I get to read, I get to write. I get to see the world through many lenses.