My mother would never approve of this one. Which is exactly why I'm writing it.
I have a one-hour bladder.
Try having numerous kids, being only 5' plus a couple of inches, and bearing entire human beings out of a tiny frame...and just see what happens to your innards, why dontcha. They get mooshed, that's what. Mooshed.
Once you're mooshed, you're pretty much toast for good. Oh, sure, surgeries and things can remedy the situation for a while...but after a couple of years gravity takes its toll, and you're right back to square one, minus a few grand for the procedures.
So, you make friends with the Ladies' Room. When you enter a place, you are scoping out the lay of the land...in search of that little door with the bald lady in the skirt in silhouette on it....Your salvation.
This is exactly what I did when I was meeting Lillian and John for dinner one lovely evening. Husband and I exchanged greetings, Husband got himself seated at our table, and I excused myself to go to the 'Jane'.
Now it needs to be said that I was heavily medicated that night. Not because I am typically medicated, but because I'd just had surgery a few days before and was taking some pain pills....the good kind.
I dizzily made my way to the louvre and quickly did what people do there. Then I found my way back to our table. I'm sure that I would not have passed a sobriety walking test.
We had an eventful meal; it always is with Lillian and John and the Husband. They are each colorful people and can tell a story like nobody's business. We laughed a lot and gossiped a lot and ate a lot, too. About a third of the way through the meal (sixty minutes into it on the dot, I'm sure), I felt the urge to visit my favorite room again, and excused myself once more.
Once in the ladies' room, however, I began to realize how incapacitated I truly was. I could've sworn that room had stalls on the other side....not where I was located at present. I had no recollection of having ever been in that particular restroom before....creepy.
I noticed that I was not alone when I saw a pair of rather large, sporty-looking tennis shoes in the stall next to me. Just an awareness, nothing that really registered.
When I emerged from the stall, I was surprised to witness a poor older fellow coming into the Ladies' Room. I smiled kindly and explained to him that he was, in fact, in the wrong bathroom. He smiled kindly back and pointed to the urinals on the wall next to where I was standing.
Frazzled, I hurriedly weaved my way back to our table and noticed one horrifying thing right away; John was gone. I guessed that shortly after I'd left to use the restroom, he had decided that was a good idea for himself, as well. I shrunk to think that I was going to have to face him in mere moments. No sooner did I have that thought, than John came around the corner, shaking his head in disbelief and grinning.
"Where you just.....in the MEN'S ROOM???" He asked, unsure,"...I thought I heard your voice in there!"
He had....he'd heard me telling some poor man that he was in the Ladies room...where I should have been.
I started to confirm that yes, it had indeed been me, when he threw his head back in uproarious laughter.
"I was in the stall next to you!"
(I somehow thought those tennis shoes had looked familiar!!!)
One more reason to 'Just Say No' to drugs.