SO TRUE!!!!!!
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 occuppied.
Finally a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You
get i 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 the 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 youe 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 i
your purse.(Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have o 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 the 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 yout precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, losing 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 lifeform on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper
-not that there was any, even if you had taken the 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 exausted. 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 at them. A kind soul at the very end of the line
points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where wast 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 restroom(rest??? You've GOT to
be kidding!!) It finally explains to the men what really does take us so lond. It also
answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs.
It's so the pther gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Klenex under the
door!
This had to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!!!