Posted on 07/19/2004 10:13:07 AM PDT by winodog
The Real Restroom Story.
Only a woman will TRULY relate to this ( boyfriends and husbands will better understand... ) !
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 quickly, 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 svcks 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, 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 in 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 and hand you Kleenex under the door.
That's not humor; it's a documentary.
It's certainly not Political Humor. Therefore, it's been banished to Chat. ;O)
hilareous! Lord, thank you form making me male!!
Thank goodness I am a man. thats alot of trouble.
Personally, have witnessed some very 'cavalier' behavior in the bathrooms; and find myself amazed and thinking these women must never have been told the 'how to' of it all.
Some men already do understand these problems. As my mother passed away when I was very young, it was my father who taught me the little tricks mentioned in the article (exactly who informed him I will never know), minus the personal demonstration. However, I would still ask for greater understanding and empathy from our male counterparts who have been, until now, unaware of such difficulties.
I was also taught the "the stance" but fortunately abandoned it after I got into public health. Unless you sit down in a very peculiar manner or have open wounds on your thighs, you're kidding yourself about the germ protection value of "the stance".
That said, I do wish that women who use the "the stance" would also wipe the seat AFTER the act!
Now I know whos responsible for peeing on the toilet seat before its my turn to use it.
You are correct. I dont post often otherwise I would have caught that. Thanks.
"your thighs begin to shake. You'd love to sit down...., so you hold "The Stance" as your thighs experience a quake that would register an eight on the Richter scale."
Such people should appreciate what horse jockeys go thru.... and all this time we fans were trying to relate how hard it is....this is a good 1. Thanks!
Apparently males never have to go #2.
And I'll never understand, as a result, what the advantage of standing is.....
..what do you mean when you say..."You're kidding yourself about the germ protection of "the stance"....
Actually, I never in my life thought someone would write about this sort of thing....
..but if you're in public health, what do you know that we don't???
This was so funny.
The skin is an excellent prtector from germs.
"It's certainly not Political Humor."
Could be - there's a metaphor in there somewhere about Public Education. :)
"The Stance" is not only silly and useless for protection from infection, it is also dangerous.
About 20 years ago, I was on a trans-Atlantic flight, seated next to an elderly woman and her 30ish son (who addressed his mother as "Mama"). "Mama", who was clearly disabled, very proudly told me just HOW she had become disabled. With a tone of voice and facial expressions that conveyed how very important it was to her that I know she wasn't the kind of woman who would ever allow her posterior to come into contact with public toilet seat, she explained to me in great detail how she had been straining to maintain "The Stance", when the strain had caused her to have a stroke.
As far as I'm concerned, she had it coming. I am sick to death of the wet smelly toilet seats left behind by these silly women and their "Stance".
OTOH; sometimes those messy seats are done by women who would rather sit; but are in a hurry. . .
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