Dear Public Bathroom User,

Dear Public Bathroom User,

Today, I had the great fortune of following you in the women's restroom at our place of work. I see your manners are just as they were before. Thank you for teaching me that there is not always comfort in consistency. Because you are, if nothing else, consistently disgusting.

But, perhaps, I am being to harsh on you and your public toilet habits. Perhaps, you have never been taught how to be a courteous public restroom patron. So, in the interest of your personal growth, and everyone else's health, I have put together a bit of a public restroom primer for proper use of our common space. Please consult these rules as often as needed, because your parents were obviously cousins and you aren't that bright.

1. Men may have the biological fortune of being able to stand when they urinate, but that's because they have the necessary body part that allows for such a skill. You, by using the women's restroom, most likely do not. Therefore, it is better to SIT on the toilet seat. I know what you may be thinking "Ewwww, I don't know who's been sitting on that thing." and you would be right. You don't. But, whoever sat on it before you, didn't get urine on the seat, YOU did! I find it hard to imagine a person so persnickety about sitting on the toilet seat, has no qualms about leaving their urine for the world to deal with. Besides, we have these really handy seat covers hanging right over the toilet. If you continue to stand when you pee, eventually you are going to pee down your leg and into your shoe.

2. While we may have toilets with motion sensors that flush automatically, it only takes 2 seconds to look behind you and make sure everything went down the drain. Honest, 2 seconds, I timed it. If everything hasn't gone away, it takes another 2 seconds to push the little round black button that will flush it again. Yes, I timed that too. There are no physically demanding jobs at our place of employment...you ride a desk for a living, you can manage the physical strength to push a freakin' button you lazy skank!

3. We are all grown women, and as grown women, we realize there are certain monthly requirements that have to be attended to in the restroom. If you are not able to take care of these monthly requirements without getting the evidence on the floor, the toilet seat, and once in the corner of the stall (still trying to figure out how you managed that), perhaps you should borrow a training dvd from the Playtex people. Again, it's not that difficult, you've had years of practice at this point, a tampon is not a shot put and this is not some weird Olympics.

4. If you are leaving a pubic hair chia pet on the toilet seat several times a day - hell, even ONCE a day, you either need to see a doctor, or a bikini waxer. In either case, take the two seconds to look behind you and another two seconds to wipe your hairball off the seat you freak!

5. If you choose to pick your nose in the stall, wiping your treasure on a bit of toilet paper is a better option than the wall. I mean the toilet paper is RIGHT THERE! If you think something you pulled out of your nose is so special it needs to be displayed, take it home and frame it. I have a four year old, I have all the nose sculptures I need, yours is not that special.

6. WASH YOUR HANDS! I realize your mother was probably a crack head and never taught you the basics of hygiene, but you really should wash your hands after using the restroom. Hand sanitizer is not the same. Don't believe me? Fine, I'll take you to the zoo and let you stick your hand in a pile of elephant dung, then hand you the little bottle of Purell I keep in my purse. Lets see how well that works for you.

So there you have it, just a few suggestions for how to use a public restroom. I wouldn't think someone old enough to have a job would need to be taught something my 4 year old already knows, but hey, apparently you do.

Sincerely,
Carol, on behalf of lots of disgusted women everywhere.

Freakin' Perky Aerobics Instructor People...

The other day I had the most traumatic experience of my short life. I was in the bathroom after taking a shower at the end of a very productive day of cleaning. After drying off, I reached for my robe on the back of the bathroom door when it happened. In a strange twist of misfortune, I had purchased a full length mirror and had it propped in such a way that I saw IT! What is IT, you may wonder? It hurts to even think about it, much less write it...but...it was the sight of my naked ass in all it's pasty-I'm-a-natural-redhead-whiter-shade-of-paleness glory. It was then I learned that while gravity may have been kind to the front of me, there were areas I can't see unless something has gone horribly wrong, that had paid the price, and was slowly creeping down the backs of my thighs.

That couldn't be my ass, I thought. But yet there it was. I knew in that moment what parents of ugly babies must feel - it ain't pretty, but it's mine so I guess I have to live with it. But unlike an ugly baby, I couldn't exactly put a flowery headband around my cheeks and hope people wouldn't notice. It doesn't surprise me none of my friends told me, I mean who wants to tell someone their baby is ugly. There is just no good way to take such a statement.

I decided there was only one thing to do about it, (well two things actually, but tossing back a few glasses of wine to dull the shock didn't really help the situation) I had to get back in shape. This wouldn't be that hard, after all, I did use to be a gym rat before marriage and children. That would soon seem like a lifetime ago.

I contemplated dusting off the treadmill, but I would have meant moving an entire wardrobe of clothes to get to it. My treadmill had become the most effective, and expensive, coat rack in the entire house. I decided instead to take advantage of my new cable subscription and choose something from an on demand site specializing in fitness video.

I scanned through the options and saw something that caught my eye - a striptease workout. I queued up the video and while I waited, I realized I was looking a lot like a performance art piece representing latex sausage. Oh well, I thought, I can't think about that now. I liked that the women in the video were different ages and body types (though none of them looked like latex sausage) and seemed perky and energetic. These seemed like women I would probably have coffee with and that put me at ease. I went through the first couple of moves fine, even though it was mainly stretching exercises. Soon I began working up a sweat. Though I had some trouble keeping up, I was doing ok. I was feeling pretty good about it, and then the perky instructor said "Ok, now for the warm up." WTF? What had we BEEN doing? She then demonstrated this one move with her hips and when I tried to follow, I heard a gunshot. Turns out the gunshot was my hip joint popping. Yeah, that felt good. I tried again, to another chorus of pops from my other hip and left knee simultaneously. I was a one woman 21 gun salute, latex sausage performance art piece, and it wasn't getting any better. I managed one move to every 4 of her's, but I refused to give up. Even when my left lung escaped my chest and slapped me, I soldiered on.

"Great warm up, now for the workout," she said, still perky. WTF? That was just the warm up? It was then I realized that if I did have coffee with any of these women, I would probably impale all of them with those skinny straws after they ordered their fat-free, half-caf soy lattes. No, I thought, still gyrating around my living room, these were NOT my coffee people. These were freaks of nature that didn't need oxygen to breath. As heavy as I was breathing, I scarcely doubted I had left much oxygen for anyone to breath. "Four more!" Perky Aerobics instructor was about to get on my last nerve when my calf cramped and I decided to sit the rest of the dance out.

I sat on the sofa, feeling defeated. My ass was melting down my leg faster than the Arctic ice cap, I was looking like a latex sausage, and my dreams of surprising my husband with my "moves" were fluttering out the window with each gasp of air. The more I watched the video, the more I got annoyed by the perky striptease instructor. I really wanted her to die, and I'm usually not a violent person.

I felt better after the cramp in my calf went away and I had a bit of ice cream. I haven't given up on the fitness goals, but I think maybe strip-aerobics weren't the best decision on the day I saw my butt for the first time in 20 years. Tomorrow, Pilates!