Debby Does…

There are lots of jokes about how women never go to the bathroom alone, but always in groups or pairs. I mean, ladies’ rooms used to have entire sections devoted to lounging on sofas, reapplying makeup, touching up hairdos, and trying all the scents and sprays the restroom attendant had to offer. It was a social occasion. Women stayed in there so long, they needed to tip upon departure.

While those ladies’ rooms in luxury hotels, fancy department stores, and high end restaurants are largely a thing of the past, women still need to use the restroom and it can be an awfully solitary place under certain conditions.

Recently, I was in the hospital with a nasty bout of pneumonia. Several times, nurses, aides, and those caring for me asked if I needed assistance dragging myself plus my IV pole, heart monitor box, and blood oxygen cord to the potty. I assured them that I did not.

As women, we have developed a real ferocity in public restrooms. Now, occasionally, when there is a jumpsuit involved or one of those dreadful underarm hook and eye set ups, we must throw ourselves upon the mercies of our fellow pottyers, but, largely, we have it under control. We are known for our multitasking skills, are we not?

Let us enter the stall. Inevitably, the latch is broken, there is no toilet paper, the floor is wet, the seat is wet, and you have to change a feminine care product. In the easiest, breeziest moment, this takes a few hands. In this moment, it would take an octopod to tackle these obstacles. And still, as women, we have mastered it.

First, let us address the door. You have the option of leaning forward and holding it with your hand or extending your leg and utilizing your foot. This becomes markedly harder if you are a toilet seat hoverer. In either case, you must rely on your core and those ballet lessons that your mother insisted you take.

Now, simultaneously, you are holding up your pants/skirt/bottoms to protect them from the liquid on the floor which may just be water, but is more likely urine from someone whose hovering skills are less than yours.

The seat can be dried off at the top of the stall assessment or, as previously stated, you can hover, hoping your aim is better than the person who made the floor what it is right now.

Assuming that there is toilet paper, it’s time to wrap up part one of the balancing act we call using the bathroom in a public place. The toilet paper is made of something as wispy as a spider web, but we persevere and diligently wash our hands (where the soap is broken, the water is cold, and, well, you get it).

This leads us to the pad/tampon/adult diaper that must be removed and replaced. It’s safe to say that you are out of hands and potentially on one leg. A change of position is required. Now, your back is going to handle the broken door latch. Leaning against the door, while holding up your pants/skirt/bottoms with your non-dominant hand, you have one hand to handle the next issue. I might also add that your purse or handbag is involved in this step, so you may want to prepare for that first, without letting go of that door!

I could go on, but I think you get it.

These are the indignities that women face in the restroom at a truck stop, bar, theater, restaurant, you name it. The assumption is that we enter a stall with fully functioning equipment, sit down, use it, wipe it, and skeedaddle. I think I can say that that basic sequence happens less than 50% of the time. I fully understand that janitorial staff is hard to find and that general maintenance may not seem like a top priority.

Perhaps this is an opportunity to help men understand our plight. I know they have those real weight baby prosthetics to help them sympathize with pregnancy woes. I think a malfunctioning bathroom experience might be helpful. It’s sort of like an escape room, but with a different kind of urgency.

Now, I did not even begin to address the safety concerns we have in these situations. Protecting our purses, watching over children, and being sure that no one has entered the bathroom with sinister motives are all things we are worrying about at the same time that we are hovering over the porcelain bowl, on one leg, holding up our palazzo pants, begging for toilet paper, trying to pee, and more.

The next time you stop at a rest area and ask your associate what took her so long, stop yourself, slap yourself, buy her a treat, and shut your pie hole!

Thanks to Mallory Heyer for this perfect illustration!