Thursday, November 29, 2012

A Little PEEved

Okay.  I have held my tongue as long as I can.

There is a very serious women's health issue which must be addressed.

I have a strong opinion on the matter.  You're shocked.  I know.

Here's the deal, I understand that many will oppose my view.  I understand that many of you have held your
belief for years, maybe even a lifetime, and have difficulty entertaining any other option.  I understand that for some of you it is an issue of personal experience.  I also understand that many of you hold your view based on the input of your own mother or some other woman whom you hold in high esteem.  I am taking all of that into consideration when I say...




PLEASE!  FOR CRYING OUT LOUD JUST SIT ON THE DANG PUBLIC RESTROOM TOILET ALREADY!



Look, I get it!  Truly, I do.  No doubt my mom nursed many a sore back having hoisted me awkwardly over a Penney's Outlet toilet seat while warning in a strained voice "Don't touch anything!"  And I tried to maintain due diligence as a young woman; hovering in such unnatural form and hoping the angle of my precarious squat would provide the urine stream a proper trajectory without, god forbid, overshooting right into the back of my own jeans.

Then gaining a few (ahem) pounds over the years without the foresight to simultaneously build upper body strength in preparation only proved to exacerbate the problem.  And yes, I admit it.  I have used the handicap bathroom simply for the value of the hand rail.  But I did so in protest against my own conscience while tortured by the possibility that an actual handicapped person could enter at any moment and have to wait for me to walk, able-bodied, out of their stall.  ugh.

But there was a day some 10 odd years ago that saved me.  The day of my release.  Dr. Oz (back  on his Oprah cameo days) said that it was okay to sit on the toilet seat.  Specifically, he said that any person with an uncompromised immune system can sit on a public toilet seat and not incur any great harm.  It's all the things you touch with your hands in the bathroom that will get you, not the non-porous donut ring upon which you set yourself.

And so began my life of bathroom freedom.  I sit.  Yes, ladies.  I do.  Full on contact -donut ring to derriere.  I am unafraid.  EXCEPT for one small thing and this is where all of you who choose to hover your haunches come in.  (And where I, for no logical reason break into prose.)

If you must squat, then please clean the pot.
For no one, I dare quibble
Wants to sit in your dribble!

Don't misunderstand me.  There are convenience store restrooms between here and my home town of Atlanta, GA that are lucky I don't line my kids up in the middle of the potato chip aisle and yell "Aim high!" because the funk and filth are too much for even me.  But in most reasonably managed establishments it's really not that bad.

Having patronized one such establishment in recent months, I have had more than enough opportunity and trust me, MORE than enough cause to address this situation.  I know how hard it can be to get centered especially if you are fighting quivering thighs but seriously, why does your fear of toilet seats have to haunt the next occupant?  Maybe it was little Johnny and he just barely makes it over the rim as it is.  So be it but you're standing right there.  You know he missed.  You're going to wash your hands and follow it up with antibacterial hand gel anyway so just give it wipe.  That's all I'm asking. 

Ladies, I respect your right to choose.  But please, please, for those of us who aren't so cushy with our tushy, don't let your hyper hiney hygienics leave the rest of us singing with the Soggy Bottom Boys.

Diatribe over.  =)






1 comment:

Dot Wiggins said...

:) Very well said and amusingly written. Non-cushy tushy sister who sits too.