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Leslie Handler Headshot

My Occasional Loss of Body Control

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Oh, it hurts. My stomach is so tight. There's a squeeze from deep within. It feels like I'm doing ab crunches, but I'm not. The squeeze gets tighter and tighter. When I got dressed this morning my pants fit, but now they feel like they're two sizes too small. I think the button's gonna pop off any second.

Now the squeeze turns into a shake. My whole body is shaking. The shake comes from my belly where the pain started. It's deep in my belly, and now it's growing exponentially from there. I can feel my shoulders shake. I've lost jurisdiction over my body.

And my eyes, my eyes are tearing now. I can't help it. I've had this feeling before. I don't get it very often, but when I do, it's absolutely uncontrollable. The tears are falling faster now, but the shaking is so out of hand that I can't even wipe the tears away.

I was sitting at the table when it started. I can't stand up. Now, I can feel my arm rising above my head and coming down to the table with a smack. My hand has landed flat on the table. It landed hard, and flat, and I can hear the slap when it lands. The heat of my fingers leaves an imprint on the glass table top.

My arm rises up again. Slap! This time, my head goes down with it. The fog of my breath forms a splotch of steam next to the newly formed hand imprint. Slap. Imprint. Splotch. Tear drop. All forming on the glass table top in front of me. The shaking is still happening and my stomach still aches from the tightness.

There's a delay. Like a baby crying, there's a delay. The face gets all scrunched up. The lips turn severely downward. The mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Then you see the huge inhale and you know it's coming. That's me -- like a baby. Between the shaking my mouth opens. I gasp for air. There's a delay. Then out comes a guttural scream with the exhale. It's just one loud scream and now I can't breathe. I'm incapable of inhaling again to scream more.

And then he says it. He says the one thing that makes it worse.

"Don't pee."

Oh my God. I thought it was about to subside, and now he's gone and made it worse. The wave of tightness takes over and everything starts flowing. My tears are flowing, and I still can't wipe them, and of course, now that he said it, the pee is flowing too. The flowing continues with more bodily fluids leaking. Now there's snot pouring out of my nose.

It hasn't been this strong in a long time, but the laughter -- it's wonderful.

May 4 is Worldwide Laughing Day. Don't forget to laugh.

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