Woman and Bathrooms
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!
Send
this to all women that need a good laugh AND,
don't
forget to have a mammogram!!!!!!
It could
save your life!
A Friend Is
Like A Good Bra...
Hard to Find
Supportive
Comfortable
Always Lifts
You Up
Never Lets You
Down or
Leaves You
Hanging
And Is Always
Close To Your Heart!!!