A Silly Story

The bathroom situation in Canton leaves a lot to be desired. In fact, one of the bigger ones that didn't have lines actually has shower curtains as doors and the stalls are so short you can see your "neighbors" as you "do your thing"!! I tried my hardest to keep the shower curtain closed and keep my balance, etc. I am a quite modest person. However, I decided to throw caution to the wind and let it all hang out -- literally!

When I got home, this story was forwarded to me and I thought--"How appropriate!"

Then, yesterday, at the baseball field, this story came back to mind as the restrooms fit some aspects of it as well.

All this to say, it is HARD being a woman. And, I am so thankful I had boys. I would HATE to have to deal with this with a little girl!

When you have to visit a public toilet 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 cubicle doors.

Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the cubicle. 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 Mum, no
doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if
there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum
would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down with your
pants and assume ' The Stance.

In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd
love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay
toilet paper on it, 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, 'Dear, 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 bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to
hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have
to do, so 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 bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest and you and your bag 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, while losing your footing
altogether and sliding 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 and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum
and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and 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 sweet wrapper you
found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the taps 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, plonk 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 toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long and why is your
bag hanging around your neck?

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public toilets It
finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also
answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets
in pairs. It's so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and
hand you Kleenex under the door.