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Tuesday, October 18, 2005

The Great Debate

Besides abortion, the death penalty and whether or not taxes should be considerably higher for the upper class, there is a debate going on in regards to work bathroom styles. Do you prefer a specific stall or do you just go for the first one that catches your eye? Do you prefer to go while no one else is there or does it not matter? Do you rush in and out or do you take your sweet time and do add-ons, like teeth brushing and make up fixing? These are important societal questions that need to be answered. And by need to be answered, I mean to cure my general curiosity. Is there a bathroom personality that everyone has? Is it predetermined or is it something that people come up with on a whim?

Peg says that as a baby, while in a grocery store, in the frozen food aisle, I picked that exact moment to have what they call a ‘blowout’. Right there in between the frozen peas and eggo waffles. She had to drop everything and leave the cart in the middle of the store. It was in that same grocery store, years later, when she taught me the importance of putting toilet paper on the seat as a barrier, “it’s germy. You don’t want to catch anything.” These were the pre-toilet seat paper cover days. Since then I have been a faithful believer that a public toilet needs to be covered, lest I want some venereal disease. Just do it.

13 years of Girl Scout camp and a love of taking a canoe out for a week of camping, taught me how to pop a squat in the woods. I’ve mastered the art of peeing while in a bathing suit, in pajamas or in shorts and a bathing suit, without getting pee allover myself. I was so proud of myself. This art form has carried well into my formative years and beyond, so now I can do so, while drunk. This is so key, as no one likes a drunk girl with pee allover herself.

Dormitory/roommate life, has taught me that truly everyone poops. There’s no shame in my game and I’m not going to hold it, while 14 other people are in the restroom or if the roommate is home. Going abroad and living with someone else kept the crap in me though. This was someone else’s home. I don’t know these people. And God forbid, they think I’m some ridiculous American who has a problem with her digestive tract. That fear went away after the first week. Hell yeah, I held it for that long. After that, I didn’t care if Teresa and Victor and the entire freaking family were in the house. If I had to go, I went. My abroad experience was sandwiched between living alone, where the only person confronted with my bathroom issues was me and I didn’t give a shit. Pardon the pun.

And finally work. Oh, work. I like the second stall. I put a paper cover on it. I don’t enjoy it when anyone else is in there. And let it be known, that if someone else is in there, I will go back and tell, that you were in there and that it freaked me out. Because seriously, no one else is EVER in there.

Now I question myself and my thoughts of bathroom matter. My mother would be mortified that I am speaking of it in such a public matter. Because in reality, it doesn’t matter, because everyone does it. But I have forever wondered if there is more than a biological science to it or if everyone has their own little quirks about it. The great (bathroom) debate continues.


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