If you are not laughing by the time you finish this I will be amazed!
You may need to stop at the women's restroom . . . be prepared!
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!
This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so
accurately!
