Especially for dear Snoozie!! (And the ladies of FG!)

[valerie]

Ladies Room

(I didn't write this... but my Mom was the same way!!)



My mother was a fanatic about public restrooms. When I was a little

girl, she'd take me into the stall, show me how to wad up toilet paper

and wipe the seat. Then she'd carefully lay strips of toilet paper tog

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.



That was a long time ago. Now, in my "mature" years, "The Stance" is

excruciatingly difficult to maintain.



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 dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom,

no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the doorhook,

if there were 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. 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 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 firehose

that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto

the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that

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. Yo! u are no longer able to smile politely 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 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

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 gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand

you Kleenex under the door

[Niamh]

:wah: it was still a great improvement on those bl*ddy hole-in-the-ground French toilets that were all along their motorways not so many years ago !!

Anybody ever used one of THOSE ??

No kidding here.....I can take you to a few Calais toilets where ladies have to pass men at the urinals en route to the ladies. P*sses me off !! Hate that !!

[sunny104]

:wah:

[abbey]

Brilliant post Val, spot on, i hate it when i squat over the loo,someone pushes the door and it smacks me on the head!





Niamh, i also hated the french loo's, at least when you squat on a loo here it's a decent height,

and you dont have to spread your legs wide so as not to splash your feet! :wah:



I hated using the loo's in Corfu, the Brits could'nt grasp it that you were under no circumstances to throw your used tissue into the loo as it would block the system,

It seemed every loo i used was blocked, and the waste paper bin at the side of the loo was empty.

[Betty Boop]

:wah: Very good.

I remember my Mum, giving out strict instructions on using public toilets.

My daughter, no matter where we are will say, 'Mummy can I sit on the seat here?' it's a bit embarressing when you're at a friends or family members house!

[Peg]

LMAO Val. I found it hysterical because it is so true. My dad taught me carry an extra tissue to open the door. You don't know who didn't wash their hands and grabbed the doorknob to open it. Ewwww