The Ladies...

Right as you walked into the “All Must Go Christmas Sale”, you knew that rummaging through tables laden with best deals would be a mistake, because really what you should be looking for was the ladies’ room.

But then, it was simply too good to pass up on and coming back later would be such a waste of time and anyway it was just going to be a quick browse, ten minutes tops.

NOT. You know it.

And as you urgently stagger out of the store an hour and a half later, mowing down unsuspecting bystanders left and right with super-sized shopping bags (because, and you knew that as well, there are no restrooms other than the grungy employee ones, with the unmistakable off-coloured rim and three sheets of toilet paper sadly dangling from a cracked dispenser), you will curse yourself.

The closest facilities at this point are at the museum cafeteria across the street, where the coffee sucks, but really, you don’t really have a choice anymore. So, dodging mad cabs and double-decker buses, you cross the street in the fading light of a rainy December afternoon and, while avoiding uncomfortable shocks to the system, you daintily leap up the steps to the museum cafeteria. You get your coffee in record time, plop your bags down at a table near the loo and...

...get in line.

Because there is a line. There always is. And you know that too.

Whether we like it or not, we ladies end up spending considerable time at airports, the movies, rest stops, and other public places in line to pee. Right next door the gents buzz in and out of their hive with little ado.

I have often been tempted and a few times driven to sneak into the adjacent door... And really why should we be put through this tedious wait time after time? Really, it boils down to this: We gals have a lot of business to deal with once we get into the stall. Apart from hitching up layers and layers of fancy attire, peeling off delicate pantyhose and frilly undies, there are such things as feminine hygene products that can produce a significant logistical challenge!!

In addition, each stall requires an individual approach, depending on the presence of a hook to use for coats and purses, the mechanism operating the disposal bin lid, the cleanliness of the seat and availabilty and kind (sheets of roles) of toilet paper available.

What comes first, where and how to dispose of unwanted items in a discreet way while also clinging on to the afore mentioned layers of fabric that should not come in contact with any potentially soiled surrounding surfaces. All of this while not dropping either hand bag or hygene products on the floor.

In some cases a blatant oversight on our part might require back tracking a few steps in order to retrieve urgent items, in other circumstances there may be a risk of spilling purse contents onto the highly suspicious bathroom stall floor. Under these aggravated circumstances, where strategy is of utmost importance, time is of no consequence.

Seriously, hasn’t the word gone around? Are all inerior architects male? Or is this but another one of the curses of womanhood?