A drop in the ocean

You probably heard the big news story.

No, not that news story.

I never discuss news that will make you frown.

I discuss only news that will make you laugh.

Which leaves us with one story:

The news that Vigo, a city in Spain, is making it illegal to pee in the ocean.

So I’m not going.

I regard this as a breach of my civil liberties.

I have precious few left.

I have the right to an elastic waistband.

I have the right to never remain silent.

I have the right to skip the recap.

Not to mention the right to ignore email and say no when I want to.

To be honest, I’m still working on that last one.

I don’t say no enough. This is because I said yes all my life, thinking I didn’t have the right to say no.

Now I’m on fire.

No.

But I believe there can be constitutional limits on our individual freedoms.

I used to be a lawyer, so you can take that to the bank.

That’s why someone can make you register your car.

But they can’t make you wear a bra.

Everyone’s talking my body, my rights.

That’s why I can pee in the ocean.

I remember the first time I peed in the ocean.

It was the Atlantic, so if you’re prissy, go in the Pacific.

In fact, I was in Atlantic City, with my parents on the beach. We drank sodas and ate water ice.

By 11 o’clock, my bladder was full.

And I was only 6 years old.

Imagine what it is now.

I’m turning 67, and my bladder is turning 85.

Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.

To return to point, I needed to pee, but there were no bathrooms around on the beach. I told my father, who said simply:

“You’re allowed to pee in the ocean.”

Truer words were never spoken.

It hadn’t occurred to me.

Of course, it’s easier said than done.

First, I can’t swim. So anytime I’m going in the ocean, I’m nervous. Plus it was hard to walk on the sharp shells, then something would scrape your ankle, which was definitely a shark.

Meanwhile all the kids around you are laughing, swimming, and playing on floats.

Their bladders are empty.

Your first task when you’re going to pee in the ocean is to do it away from other people.

That’s how you keep it classy.

The standard is low.

So you walk over where people aren’t, but if you take too long, they start coming around you.

Hold it in.

Then, when you finally find open water, you have to convince yourself it’s OK to pee in the ocean.

Not an easy task.

Especially if you’re me, a little girl who follows the rules.

Your father gave you permission, but tell that to your urethra.

You finally decide to let it go, and you stand in water to your waist, thinking you’re getting away with it.

You begin to notice everyone is standing in water to their waist, thinking they’re getting away with it.

After you’ve peed in the ocean, you have to leave.

Fast.

You will swear you made a yellow spot, but that’s only your conscience.

What a bitch.

Even if you can’t see the spot, you can feel it’s warm.

Later, as an adult, you will go in the water, feel cold spots and warm spots, and realize nobody had a bathroom.

I don’t know why anyone is outlawing peeing in the ocean.

Corporations pour trash, filth, garbage, toxic waste, and crude oil into the ocean.

The cleanest thing going into the ocean is my pee.

It’s not like I dumped in the ocean.

That would give ocean dumping a bad name.

I don’t know how we would enforce a no-peeing-in-the-ocean rule.

We can’t enforce a subpoena, the law, or the Constitution.

In fact, right now people are peeing on all of those things.

But I’m not mentioning that.

Because it wouldn’t be funny.

Look for Lisa’s new best-selling domestic thriller, “What Happened to the Bennetts.” Also, look for Lisa’s historical novel, “Eternal,” in paperback. Francesca’s critically acclaimed debut novel, “Ghosts of Harvard,” is also in paperback,