Arlene and two adopted dogs.

Just a blog from someone who loves to communicate with other dog owners

Ring any bells

When you have to visit a public toilet, 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 cubicle doors. 
Every cubicle is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle. 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 Mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the
 FLOOR!) down with your pants and assume ‘ The Stance.

In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You’d love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on it, 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, ‘Dear, 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 bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so 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 bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest and you and your bag 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, while losing your footing altogether and sliding 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 and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.

The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and 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 sweet wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can’t figure out how to operate the taps 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, 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 toilet. Annoyed, he asks, ‘What took you so long and why is your bag hanging around your neck?

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public toilets. It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs. It’s so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately.

Send this to all women that need a good laugh.

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra…
Hard to Find
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

Share this with a friend! 
I Just Did!

Thank you for visiting and please come back, Arlene, Tango and Ruby


  1. I too read this on Blogger and it so describes what we ladies have to go through in the public toilet. I’ve removed a leg from my pants to not have my clothes even touch the germy commode. And never would I put my purse on the floor. I have hung it on my neck… I’m a germaphobe anyhow,,LOL,,loved it.

    • My younger daughter is the same, in fact she won’t use outside toilets, and will ‘hold’ herself for longer than I think safe or healthy, and id she does have to go she’ll hover, AND line the seat.
      Nice to see you on here too GrGran, thanks for coming by.

  2. Glad you enjoyed it Pen, I thought it funny too, dunno where all my ‘friends’ have gone, hardly worth the effort posting on here, if you don’t hear from me from time to time, i’ve just become disillusioned

    Your still among my best blogger friends all four of them :-)()(, that means I don’t know whether to laugh or cry..
    I meant to add, you ought to come to some dog shows, it can get so desperate, that we organise a guard detail, and commandeer the Gents for a set time, the disabled and baby and mother are not out of bounds.

  3. I read this yesterday Arlene, and laughed ’til I cried, but my internet went down before I could leave a comment. I was reminded of the toilets at St Pancras, a great long line when I joined it, with crossed legs. and all the while I was stood there the men’s was totally free. There was a Mother and baby one, but no-one dared take the opportunity. 😉 … BUT once inside? marvellous accommodation, everything to hand, and a pleasure to sit ‘over’ the seat. I cannot make myself sit on one, ever, which is why it made my eyes water on reading your piece. Legs akimbo, trembling.!! and oh so true about the Bra, so accurate and so heart felt. hugs and woofs to you three, from me. xPenx

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