Anonymous
Fri, 2 Nov 01, 12:18 AM
Hello everybody!
I said I would tell you a bit more about my grandchildren, Peter and Jessica. I think Peter is just like a lot of very shy and rather nervous boys For Peter it seems to be that his bladder simply takes over, sometimes when his bladder is very full and he is bursting, but sometimes just when his bladder is rather full and he is not really aware of being desperate for a wee. He can be quite taken by surprise – at school, in the street, or even just sitting at home reading, doing his homework or watching the TV. He’s also quite shy – which means not asking to go always when he should – and nervous – he will sometimes wet himself in an exam, or during a telling off, or with excitement. Stress seems to increase the wet beds as well!
He used to wet himself quite often at junior school. Sometimes – he used to confide in me, because he and Jessica regularly come round to my house after school, have tea and do homework, and wait until Alice got back form work to collect them. He would come back wet and tearful, and say “Granny, I was so interested, I forgot to ask to leave the room.” Or, “Granny, I was naughty, and Miss Jones made me stand in the corner, and I wanted a wee-wee, and I was so upset at being punished, and I wet my knickers.” – It’s funny, Peter and Jessica’s generation talk about knickers for everything – we used to distinguish carefully between briefs, panties, long and short underpants, knickers - and drawers, by which we meant ladies' underpants coming down below the knee or men’s woolly underpants about the same length. Peter mostly wears woollen underwear in the winter, and I suppose his pants with an elastic waist, with a stretchy knit just abut his knees, are a kind of knickers really; and the cotton ones he wears in summer are very similar really. There is a fashion amongst him and his friends at school for long underpants in the cold weather – they are made of some artificial fibre and they call them “My thermals”!
As he got older he wet himself less often. But he still has a tendency to leave it too late because he is interested in something – or else there is no opportunity to go to lavatory – and then he suddenly realises he can’t wait, and wets himself in his “knickers” or his thermals. Or he is shy about asking to go. When he joined the scouts, - he must have been twelve, no one ever knew there was a problem. It turned out that he didn’t know where there lavatory was in the church hall they used. For weeks he would wait till the meeting was over and if he need to g badly would wait till he got the public conveniences near the bus stop home and g there. Once he arrived home wet, because he had had to run for the bus, and went for a wee-wee in his woollen underpants on the journey home. It much amused the friends he travelled with – I got the story form the mother of one of them a few days later. A couple of months later, he disgraced himself during their meeting. Apparently they were on parade, standing in line being talked to or something, and his need grew considerable. He fidgeted and shuffled around and was told roughly to “Stand still!. Whereupon he wet himself, and he soaked his knickers and his trousers and made a puddle all round his feet. For someone who is sensitive like him, to be put to shame in this way every few weeks or months is a torment.
His most recent mishap was at school. It has got colder here in England and he has just started wearing his long thermals again. They were in the chemistry laboratory, doing some kind of test or experiment. He got really interested, and told me afterwards I just didn’t notice I needed to go.”. When he did become conscious of his need, what they were doing was a crucial stage and he couldn’t leave it. The inevitable happened and he suddenly started to wet his underpants. The worst thing was that he has just started a new school – we call it sixth form college, for people who are about 16-18 years old. As far as I can remember he only wet himself badly and visibly about a dozen times in the last twelve months, not all at school. (Once in out house, watching a fascinating nature program on the TV – Jessica and I watched with amusement as a stain grew on the front of his trousers and a little fountain welled up between his legs – it was two or three minutes before he even noticed what had happened!)
So of course at his new school he was in a class where only one person knew that he ever wet himself at all. In his shame he held himself and tried to stop. But he had already wet the seat of the laboratory stool he was on and only drew attention to himself and the drip, drip, drip from the stool and the splashing on the floor. Everyone started, his predicament was obvious, the combination of shame, surprise and physical desperation was too much for him, and he continued to wet himself sitting on the stool, into his lap, down his thermals and trousers, into a puddle that formed round his bottom and overflowed, splashing down onto the uneven floor - "and Granny," he told me, "it all ran across the floor in front of everybody!”. There was laughter, astonishment and a big fuss. But he had to finish the experiment, and then came home early. The faithless friend filled the others in on his history and his reputation as a pants wetter is now firmly established, poor fellow.
He is in turmoil about it. Alice and he husband are away and I am staying at their house with him and Jessica. Like me and his mother and sister, he has always wet the bed on occasion, more of course when he was younger. It spoiled his first scout camp, for in addition to wetting himself in the minibus on the way out, he wet himself once in his sleep and another night, waking up desperate to go, was afraid to get up and go out into the night. “Granny," he told me afterwards, "it was cold and raining and windy, and I just didn’t dare.” So he simply let go into his pyjamas and sleeping bag and went back to sleep. These days he doe it far less often. We can be together on a family holiday for two or three weeks and it is only occasionally that he wee-wees in his sleep. But last week-end, after his shameful mishap at his new school, he wet the bed two nights running, and Alice says he has done it again back at home.
I shall tell you a bit more about myself another time, and also about Jessica and other members of my family.
Shirley, I’m so glad you found out where to get some nice warm undies. I’m sorry you had such a bad time wetting yourself on the way back form your trip.
I like the new site. I wish people would tell more about accidents that have happened to them. It makes me feel happier about the many times I have wet myself, just as telling about it does, and I can remember the excitement and naughtiness as well as the fuss and the discomfort.
Love
Marge.
I said I would tell you a bit more about my grandchildren, Peter and Jessica. I think Peter is just like a lot of very shy and rather nervous boys For Peter it seems to be that his bladder simply takes over, sometimes when his bladder is very full and he is bursting, but sometimes just when his bladder is rather full and he is not really aware of being desperate for a wee. He can be quite taken by surprise – at school, in the street, or even just sitting at home reading, doing his homework or watching the TV. He’s also quite shy – which means not asking to go always when he should – and nervous – he will sometimes wet himself in an exam, or during a telling off, or with excitement. Stress seems to increase the wet beds as well!
He used to wet himself quite often at junior school. Sometimes – he used to confide in me, because he and Jessica regularly come round to my house after school, have tea and do homework, and wait until Alice got back form work to collect them. He would come back wet and tearful, and say “Granny, I was so interested, I forgot to ask to leave the room.” Or, “Granny, I was naughty, and Miss Jones made me stand in the corner, and I wanted a wee-wee, and I was so upset at being punished, and I wet my knickers.” – It’s funny, Peter and Jessica’s generation talk about knickers for everything – we used to distinguish carefully between briefs, panties, long and short underpants, knickers - and drawers, by which we meant ladies' underpants coming down below the knee or men’s woolly underpants about the same length. Peter mostly wears woollen underwear in the winter, and I suppose his pants with an elastic waist, with a stretchy knit just abut his knees, are a kind of knickers really; and the cotton ones he wears in summer are very similar really. There is a fashion amongst him and his friends at school for long underpants in the cold weather – they are made of some artificial fibre and they call them “My thermals”!
As he got older he wet himself less often. But he still has a tendency to leave it too late because he is interested in something – or else there is no opportunity to go to lavatory – and then he suddenly realises he can’t wait, and wets himself in his “knickers” or his thermals. Or he is shy about asking to go. When he joined the scouts, - he must have been twelve, no one ever knew there was a problem. It turned out that he didn’t know where there lavatory was in the church hall they used. For weeks he would wait till the meeting was over and if he need to g badly would wait till he got the public conveniences near the bus stop home and g there. Once he arrived home wet, because he had had to run for the bus, and went for a wee-wee in his woollen underpants on the journey home. It much amused the friends he travelled with – I got the story form the mother of one of them a few days later. A couple of months later, he disgraced himself during their meeting. Apparently they were on parade, standing in line being talked to or something, and his need grew considerable. He fidgeted and shuffled around and was told roughly to “Stand still!. Whereupon he wet himself, and he soaked his knickers and his trousers and made a puddle all round his feet. For someone who is sensitive like him, to be put to shame in this way every few weeks or months is a torment.
His most recent mishap was at school. It has got colder here in England and he has just started wearing his long thermals again. They were in the chemistry laboratory, doing some kind of test or experiment. He got really interested, and told me afterwards I just didn’t notice I needed to go.”. When he did become conscious of his need, what they were doing was a crucial stage and he couldn’t leave it. The inevitable happened and he suddenly started to wet his underpants. The worst thing was that he has just started a new school – we call it sixth form college, for people who are about 16-18 years old. As far as I can remember he only wet himself badly and visibly about a dozen times in the last twelve months, not all at school. (Once in out house, watching a fascinating nature program on the TV – Jessica and I watched with amusement as a stain grew on the front of his trousers and a little fountain welled up between his legs – it was two or three minutes before he even noticed what had happened!)
So of course at his new school he was in a class where only one person knew that he ever wet himself at all. In his shame he held himself and tried to stop. But he had already wet the seat of the laboratory stool he was on and only drew attention to himself and the drip, drip, drip from the stool and the splashing on the floor. Everyone started, his predicament was obvious, the combination of shame, surprise and physical desperation was too much for him, and he continued to wet himself sitting on the stool, into his lap, down his thermals and trousers, into a puddle that formed round his bottom and overflowed, splashing down onto the uneven floor - "and Granny," he told me, "it all ran across the floor in front of everybody!”. There was laughter, astonishment and a big fuss. But he had to finish the experiment, and then came home early. The faithless friend filled the others in on his history and his reputation as a pants wetter is now firmly established, poor fellow.
He is in turmoil about it. Alice and he husband are away and I am staying at their house with him and Jessica. Like me and his mother and sister, he has always wet the bed on occasion, more of course when he was younger. It spoiled his first scout camp, for in addition to wetting himself in the minibus on the way out, he wet himself once in his sleep and another night, waking up desperate to go, was afraid to get up and go out into the night. “Granny," he told me afterwards, "it was cold and raining and windy, and I just didn’t dare.” So he simply let go into his pyjamas and sleeping bag and went back to sleep. These days he doe it far less often. We can be together on a family holiday for two or three weeks and it is only occasionally that he wee-wees in his sleep. But last week-end, after his shameful mishap at his new school, he wet the bed two nights running, and Alice says he has done it again back at home.
I shall tell you a bit more about myself another time, and also about Jessica and other members of my family.
Shirley, I’m so glad you found out where to get some nice warm undies. I’m sorry you had such a bad time wetting yourself on the way back form your trip.
I like the new site. I wish people would tell more about accidents that have happened to them. It makes me feel happier about the many times I have wet myself, just as telling about it does, and I can remember the excitement and naughtiness as well as the fuss and the discomfort.
Love
Marge.