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Sunday, August 19, 2007

The Ladies Room

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the floor), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.

It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

Author Unknown

8 comments:

Christy said...

What a great post! I want to know why it is that every washroom door latch is broken, lol. Is it some kind of conspiracy? I think all women can relate to this post, and your writing style is fantastic! :)

AC Associates said...

Hi Christy,
Thanks for stopping by. Being in the ladies room can be quite an adventure! haha. I can't take credit for this article though. I found this while going through some papers. Obviously I kept it because it was so funny and I could relate. I guess I will add 'author unknown' at the end of the post.

FeelingFlirty said...

It's the last paragraph that says it all. Those ARE the reason we go in pairs! Thanks for posting it.

AC Associates said...

Thanks for stopping by Feeling flirty...That paragraph does say it all! I think about 8 out of 10 times, I needed my girlfriend there to help with either holding the door or passing the tissue!

Anon A. Mus said...

Great post! One year, my sisters complained so much about the conditions in womens' restrooms that I created a special Christmas present for them --- a package of portable tissues with a tiny ax attached to it and sign that read "In Case Of Emergency: Break Plastic"

On a positive note, at least the seats were down, right? :)

Sarcasm Abounds said...

It all becomes clear to me now, thanks! I've always thought there was some sort of shoe and wine oasis inside.

AC Associates said...

Hi Anon A. Mus,
You are too funny! what a great present...
Yes, the seats are down..well, sometimes, but we also find many surprises in the stalls...don't worry, won't go into detail...just ask your sisters! *smiles

AC Associates said...

Dear Sarcasm Abounds,
I am glad I was able to clear up your confusion...haha, wouldn't it be wonderful if we were offered some wine after the struggles we go thru..
Thank you for visiting.

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