We have all been there: the waiting game. We’ve done the song and dance that only occurs when two chicks have to do their bathroom business but are afraid of… the noise? The smell? The idea that a woman’s body can actually yield this act? They wait and wait until one of them either does the deed or gets up and retreats to the downstairs bathroom for solitude.
For some reason, females and bathrooms have an unbreakable bond. Sometimes we’re drunk and stream-of-conscious-style complimenting everyone’s eyebrows. Sometimes we’re hiding in the last stall, morning coffee freshly kicked in, while a group of girls socialize in front of the mirror.
One day you’re the girl surprised by the crimson tide, tampon-less, Dirty Love-style leaking and pleading for help; the next day you may find yourself saving the social life of a fellow woman, just by having an extra tampon.
As cliché or John Hughes as it may sound, a lot happens in the bathroom, especially among academic latrines. We hear and reveal secrets, make important phone calls, and take care of our most private issues in public bathrooms, surrounded by other girls doing a variety of these things; sometimes, things get awkward.
At 22, after working in an office setting, dating a slew of boys, and years and years (and years) of schooling, I’m not afraid of public restrooms anymore. This includes doing the dirtiest of all deeds in the most mortifying of all places that we tend to ignore it as well as possible (reminder: when we do that, we’re pretending we’re not human). I’m sorry, ladies, but neither U.T.I. nor constipation is a fair price to pay for ignoring your bodily functions out of… embarrassment?
There’s few times in life that make you want to shrink out of existence like having to #2 while staying with your boyfriend (or worse, someone you’re trying to make your boyfriend). For the faint of heart, ease your life by taking the $10 leap of faith and purchasing Poo Pourri™. If you’ve never seen the commercials, you’re missing out.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkJy0Z2P_1k
It’s a spray that traps the stink before it can become a real stink, essentially. It’s a remarkable invention, which I considered buying after spending three days too long ignoring my bodily functions during a weekend at my dude’s house. I was simply pretending I wasn’t human. It took days for my stomach (and, frankly, my cheeks) to feel the same! If you do not wish to purchase Poo Pourri™, try another solution: acceptance.
While it’s not all makeup and glitter for every girl, it’s not uncommon to feel like you have to be more than human. We’re typically raised to be lady-like and to produce as little fowl smells and noises from the nether-region as possible. Plenty of girls also were made fun of when they farted during class in grade school (maybe that was just me but I pray that it wasn’t).
F*ck that.
Despite the way you were raised, the way a boy might make you feel, or even the possible thoughts of the fellow girls you regularly associate with, you have to do your business. The older you get, the less time to you have to sit and wait for the other girl to commit the immortal sin first. And, honestly, the longer you wait in the bathroom, the more people will assume you are taking a dump, almost guaranteeing the embarrassment you’re attempted to avoid by waiting.
Public restrooms and those belonging to people we associate with can be scary (I apologize if I reminded anyone of that scene from Dumb and Dumber). We women have enough discomfort in our days: underwire bras, stilettos, those thin belts that come with business-like pencil skirts, the push of three-day-old leg stubble through panty-hose, etc. I’ve said before: it’s hard to function when bound. Stop the femme fear of—screw the formalities—crapping in public restrooms. In order to be our best, brightest, and baddest selves, we first have to be human.