Why women take so long in the bathroom -- CYBERSISTER'S

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Date Posted: 12:17:33 08/15/07 Wed
Author: charlene (giggling)
Subject:

Why women take so long in the bathroom

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) so 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?"

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