My mother was a fanatic about public bathrooms. When I was a little
]] girl, she'd take me into the stall, teach me to wad up toilet paper
and
]] wipe the seat. Then, she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper to
cover
]] the seat. Finally, she'd instruct, "Never, NEVER sit on a public
toilet
]] seat.
]]
]] Then she'd demonstrate "The Stance," which consisted of balancing over
]] the toilet in a sitting position without actually letting any of your
]] flesh make contact with the toilet seat. By this time, I'd have wet
down
]] my leg and we'd have to go home to change my clothes. That was a
long
]] time ago. Even now, in my more mature years, "The Stance" is
]] excruciatingly difficult to maintain, especially when one's bladder is
]] full.
]]
]] When you have to "go" in a public bathroom, you usually find a line of
]] women that makes you think there's a half-price sale on Nelly's
underwear
]] in there. So, you wait and smile politely at all the other ladies,
who
]] are also crossing their legs and smiling politely. You get closer and
]] check for feet under the stall doors. Every one 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
]] dispenser for the new fangled "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
]] hang 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." Ahhhh,
]] relief. More relief. But then your thighs 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" as your thighs experience
a
]] quake that would register an eight on the Richter scale. To take your
]] mind off of 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 would have 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. That would have to do. You crumple
it
]] in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your
thumbnail.
]] Someone pushes open your stall door 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, and sliding down,
directly
]] onto the insidious toilet seat. 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 ashamed of you if she knew,
]] because you're certain that 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, sending up a stream of water akin to a
fountain
]] that suddenly sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto
]] the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged off to China. At
]] that point, you give up. You're soaked by the splashing water.
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 a
]] line of women, still waiting, cross-legged and, at this point, no
longer
]] able to smile politely. One kind soul at the very end of the line
points
]] out that you are trailing a piece of toilet paper on your shoe as long
as
]] the Mississippi River! (Where was it when you NEEDED it??) You yank
the
]] paper from your shoe, plunk it the woman's hand and tell her warmly,
]] "Here, you just might need this."
]]
]] As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has since entered, used and
exited
]] the men's restroom and read a copy of War and Peace while waiting for
]] you. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse
]] hanging around your neck?"
]]
]] This is dedicated to women everywhere who have ever had to deal with a
]] public restroom (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 question about why women go to the restroom
in
]] pairs. It's so the other woman can hold the door, hold your purse and
]] hand you Kleenex under the door! ↓
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| Name: Fiona | Date: Jun 5th, 2006 8:01 PM |
When you go for a pee you need to sit down properly as you're not able to empty your bladder if you just 'hover' like this. I know it's tempting, but it doesn't do your bladder any good at all and can lead to urinary infections!
The chances of catching a disease from a public loo are virtually non-existant! ↑ |
| Name: firewife | Date: Jun 6th, 2006 8:18 PM |
eeew Fiona you actually sit, I am sorry but that is gross. It is not so much catching a disease because I know chances are slim to none but I wouldn't touch the seat with my hand, (which I can conviently wash just about anywhere) so why would I touch it with my bottom, (which I can not wash at the sink when I'm finished)
I am with you Mamaofmany, ROTFL, so been there! ↑ |
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