CAROUSELAMBRA: A Shocking Admission

Originally, I was going to go off and announce this on YouTube. I sat there starting at the Windows sound recorder for half an hour with my microphone in front of my face before I remembered something.
         I'm a writer.
         My oratorical skills are a mere shadow compared to my skills with the pen (or the keyboard), so I decided that it would be easier to write an article about it, since no filter of nervousness exists between the brain and the keyboarding fingers.
         So, let's all prepare ourselves first. This will be a shocker, so please ensure that our mouths are clear of any solids or liquids. Next, set down any objects you might be holding.
         All right, ready?
         Well, I'm not yet, so you'll get another few moments while I prepare myself.
         Okay, now are we ready?
         Head turned away, teeth gritted, eyes closed, here goes nothing. . .
         I like to pee my pants.
         
         That silence means that you're shocked. I'm sorry, but there's no other way I could say this. Not even Microsoft Word's mighty thesaurus can find me a simpler, more direct way to spill my biggest, deepest, darkest, strangest secret. I like to pee my pants. Pretty straightforward and self-explanatory. No, I don't think my head will look very good on a wood mantelpiece, but my hair makes a nice match with marble.
         So yeah, there it is. Would you like to know more?
         I see you do.
         Unfortunately, there isn't much of a cool backstory to this, either. One day, when I was about twelve years old, I just decided to pee my pants. The feeling was awesome to my young brain, and I started doing it more often. Back then, I could do it five or six times a day, in pretty much every single garment I owned. That wasn't very practical, so as I grew older I wet less, with some clothes that I had set aside just to pee in. I took a prolonged break during my freshman year in high school, then started back for sophomore year. Since then, I've settled into a routine of wetting approximately every day. Never in public, just at home in my bedroom, alone or whilst chatting with a friend online (I'll get to you guys later), generally in clothes that I have set aside for this purpose. I do it either sitting or standing, mostly after holding it for a while so I get more of that wonderful feeling of wet warmth that I wouldn't trade for anything else. I've gotten extremely soaked before, but I won't get into that to keep the squeamish calm.
         When did I decide to tell people about this, you ask?
         Well, for a long time, actually, but it wasn't until last year that I finally decided that someone had to know, even if it is only one person. And wouldn't you know it, that person liked it, too. Fast-forward in time about a year or so, and I was telling my girlfriend after weeks of fierce debate with myself. She liked it, too. I was on a roll! So, I told someone else. She didn't quite take it so well, but she didn't stop talking to me. The next person I told tried it and liked it, and went on to serve as a source of encouragement for the creation of this special edition of CAROUSELAMBRA. That very same night, I told a close, local friend, and received a shock almost as much as what some of you will feel after reading this: She liked it, too! I couldn't believe it! With each friend I got up the courage to tell, I felt better and better about my wetting, and now, I can finally stand up and say with certainty that I love to pee my pants.
         I now run off the stage, dive into my car, and speed off in a maelstrom of tire smoke to avoid reaction.