The wonderful life of being a woman

When you need to visit a public loo there is invariably a line of women waiting isn’t there!

(Well, to be honest – this is a pre Corona Virus memory … isn’t it …….. nowadays the public loo’s are oftentimes locked – but we won’t ‘go there’ – this is a happy uncomplicated post)

you smile politely and take your place in the line,
it is finally you get to the front – so it seems ….
You check for feet under the cubicle doors,
Every cubicle is occupied.
Eventually a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle –
Pushing aside the more senior woman who says she is older and “needs to go”, the mom with a screaming toddler and a skinny chick sneaking in behind me,
Relief, finally inside – only to find the door won’t lock.
It doesn’t matter, the wait has been so long and you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for modern ‘seat covers’ is a great idea – but empty.
Next question is where to set down you handbag?
You would hand it on the door hook if there was one – but only a sad piece of something broken is in its place.
Quickly you drape your handbag around your neck,
yank down your pants and assume ‘the position”.
Frickin heck, there goes your phone – you dive in – who cares what is lurking – those 5000 photos and messages you’ll never look at again but saved just incase are precious,
You know they are all saved in the Cloud – which you have no idea how to find and if you did – what is that password anyway!?
In the squat position your ageing, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.

You would love to sit down, but because you were already bursting you hadn’t taken the time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it , so you hold ‘the position’.
To take your mind off your trembling thighs for a moment you reach for the toilet paper dispenser and your worst nightmare ……
It is empty.
The loo roll dispenser is empty! omw
You hover, looking around in the hope there is a new roll behind you but no such luck.
Now the thighs are screaming and quivering like leaves on a tree in a hurricane.
Your remember a tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday, the one that’s still in your handbag, which is now like a millstone making your shoulders and neck burn.

You contort your arm into a very unnatural position and start to fumble around in the deep dark depths of your handbag (full of everyone else’s keys, chargers and the kitchen sink) for the small crumpled used tissue no bigger than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes the door and because the latch doesn’t work, the door hits your head, which is bent forward from you holding your bag around your neck while you are rummaging for that used tissue,the door takes you by surprise and you lose your balance and topple backwards – “Occupied!” you scream, reaching to push the door shut again,in the process the tissue drifts to the ground.

Handle but no lock

Now you give up the yoga pose, upward giraffe, collapsing onto the toilet seat.

Yes – it’s wet! You bolt up, knowing its too late, your thighs and bottom have made contact with every imaginable germ and life form living under that seat.The automatic sensor on the back of the cistern is confused and flushes, propelling a stream of cold water like a fire hose into the bowl, causing a spray of fine mist that completely covers your do-rae-me and into your dishevelled pants which have now dropped to your ankles, hems soaking up the suspicious puddle on the floor.

The flush seems to suck everything down with such force you grab onto the empty metal paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. By this time all hope and dignity has vanished, an empty gum wrapper in your pocket is all there is left to use. Impatient women await your space and you creep out of the cubicle as inconspicuously as possible.

Navigating the tap to wash your hands requires an unusual university degree, so you swish, wave and hover under the spout – all these inventions you think. ou move across to the towel dispenser, past the line of women still waiting, where – of course – there are no paper towels so you go to the hand blower instead. Yes, you guessed – doesn’t work either. You’re no longer able to smile politely to the women, but there’s an unspoken understanding between you all.

A kind soul at the very end of the line of women points out that that you have a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. Where was that when you NEEDED IT???? You yank the paper fro your shoe, plonk 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. Annoyed, he asks, “What took you so long, and why is your handbag hanging around your neck?”j

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This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loo’s. It also helps explain to men why it really does take us women so long and it also answers that commonly asked question – why do women always go to the Ladies in pairs? It’s so your friend can hold the door, hang onto your bag and pass a tissue under the door. Also, two brains are better than one and between you, you can work out how to get the tap to run.

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loo’s. It also helps explain to men why it really does take us women so long and it also answers that commonly asked question – why do women always go to the Ladies in pairs? It’s so your friend can hold the door, hang onto your bag and pass a tissue under the door. Also, two brains are better than one and between you, you can work out how to get the tap to run.

Maybe cats have the right idea!? Eh https://anelephantinmysuitcase.com/pandoras-suitcase/