The first time it happened to me I panicked. I had given birth to my daughter, spent six weeks recovering and begging my midwife to let me go back to the gym and he had made it clear that I could do some serious damage to my lady parts and all of my other parts if I didn't give my body time to recover. When I hit the six week mark I was like a race horse on steroids at Pemblico. I tore out of the house and headed to the gym to take an interval class. I looked terrible. I was exhausted. I still had that horrific baby gut that no one tells you about. I had squeezed myself into the only bra that would contain my giant nursing boobs and the only pants that fully covered my ass but whatever, I was going to get my endorphine rush and no beer belly or floppy ass situation was standing in my way. At first it was all good, a little stretching to a soothing jazzy pop classic and then it was time to hit it. We started with jumping jacks. I did two and realized that I had peed my pants. And it wasn't a little pee, like the laugh so hard you tinkle a bit pee. It was a fully on, can these stretchy pants hold all of this pee, pee. So I fled. My pants were soaked. I was horrified. There were tears welling up in my eyes and of course my boobs started to fill with milk. I called my husband and by then I was sobbing so hard he couldn't understand me. He raced to the gym because I'm pretty sure he thought I'd been assaulted and drove me home, still crying. I called my midwife and told him what had happened and his response was "I fucking told you not to workout." Yes, he curses at me but I love him to death. "And I'm pretty sure I told you about the leaking too." So there I was, sitting in my urine, covered in tears and breast milk thinking that the only fluids missing from this crime scene are blood and poop. And I gave up, on my workouts, on my fitness, on being anything other than a working mom. That is, until I moved to Austin eight years later. There is no being comfortably chubby but smart and successful in Austin. There is being fit and there is being incredibly fit. I guess it's because it's 100 degrees for most of the year so layering is not an option. So I took the bull by the horn and decided to head back to the gym. But this time I was ready. I was sporting a giant incontinence pad courtesy of our friends at Poise. I got through the workout but I couldn't stop thinking about the bulge in the back of my pants. I'm sure no one was looking (I mean I'm pretty sure) but if they were, there was a clear shot of the giant pad from behind. I left that class ready to rumble. I was determined to find a better solution for the incontinence that I had allowed to wreck my life for almost a decade. And with a little help from people who actually know how to make stuff, I created our JustGo Pad. And now, three years later, we have customers who email me in a panic because they ran out of pads.
Wait - I skipped ahead a lot. Now that I'm blogging again, let me tell our story as it unfolded because so much has happened since that first pad logged workout. So very much has happened.