I guess it is time that I tell the truth.

I have always been one with a passion in theater. And by saying I have such a passion, I mean that I put my everything into it... everything. (Remember this point for later). Since a ripe young thespian age, my dedication was never ending. I observed everybody and everything, soaking up every idea that someone presented. This also included listening to the rules and making sure I did them diligently.

Forest Dale Elementary School's production of Sleeping Beauty was my first real musical. As a tiny first grader, I took awe at the "theater life". From backstage rules, microphones, makeup, costumes, and of course the onstage aura, I respected everything. This specifically included The Peeing Rule.

Let the reader understand, Sleeping Beauty has many intricate costumes. Due to these ornate and 'hard to get out of' pieces, my beloved director, Mrs. Pitcher DID NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES LET US GO TO THE RESTROOM. Once dressed, you had to suck it up (literally) until the show is done. Now, this rule is easier said than done. One might think two hours of one performance would be a breeze for a bladder to "hold it". But one must also remember that I was only 7 at the time, therefore, my bladder was not "adapt".

As you can obviously already infer, this was not an "efficient" law.

I had been cast in the Baby Animal Chorus, specifically, as the owl. On the day of dress rehearsal, just before opening night, I was hit with the intensity and severity of The Rule. I understood the desperation of those children whom I saw slyly run into the bathrooms... the children whom I looked at with disdain, knowing they were breaking the holy rule. My tiny owl bladder only had so much time... and I knew it. It was then that I looked at my brown tights, leotard, wool body, and wings with entire hatred. Why must I have been a multi-layer owl, and not a princess with a transportable dress. I knew I was stuck. It would be impossible for me to take off my costume without assistance, and I definitely was not going to let anything get in the way of my obedience to the backstage rule. I had to prove myself... make a name for myself. Ha.

It hit me around intermission. I struggled, squeezed, and held it longer than what seemed to be a lifetime. Song by song I danced backstage, trying to remain silent in my pain. Finally, it was curtain call. The full cast came onto the stage once more to sing I Know You, the classic Sleeping Beauty song that will forever ring in my mind with a tone of chaos, frenzy, and desperation. The Baby Animal Chorus stood downstage front, on stairs directly in front of the audience. (Note, it was only dress rehearsal, therefore, the audience consisted of my directors, few doting mothers, and other volunteers who were preparing for the following day.) I could see the light... and no it was not the spotlight raining down on us, rather the shiny toilet awaiting my exit.

But then, it happened. It hit me. I couldn't hold it anymore.

Suddenly, as the warmth of my worst nightmare filled my costume, and leaked down onto the stage, my frantic and hopeless body stood still, quickly trying to conjure up any way to disappear. A thousand thoughts filled my brain, each probably better than the exit route I planned to take. But unfortunately, with the energy of a chaotic "pants pee-er", my tiny Owl self screamed out an unmistakably terrible lie.

"THE BOYS PEED ON ME!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs the WORST escape plan I could have possibly thought of. I do not understand why I thought this was the best story... and I can definitely say that I quickly learned I should have thought of something else... but there was no turning back.

The lights in the audience quickly turned on. The music muted. The voices hushed. Suddenly every face in the theater turned and stared at my wet self.

One of the mothers from the audience ran onto the stage to my assistance, trying to hush my frantic screams. But I didn't stop. Turning to the little boys behind me --a small chorus of Jokers-- I wailed, blaming them for the atrocity they put my through. What nerve they had... peeing on me. And on stage too! I made sure everybody in the theater knew exactly what happened, and I was definitely sure that they would be the ones blamed for such an event.

Never in my life have I told the true story. Until now, I stood by the fact that "the boys peed on me". But I guess that now, at 17, it is time I finally tell the truth.

It was me.

I peed on stage.

So Philip, J.J., Chuck: I'm so sorry for falsely accusing you of such a heinous act. I hope that this article relieves the pain and struggling that my lie has put you in through the years. Never will I forget your innocent and confused glance at your pants to make sure you hadn't in fact peed on me, and never ever will I forget your willingness to stay quiet and not blame me for my craziness. Y'all will make good husbands.