Public Toilets are a pain in the ass.

There are certain unique challenges to being a woman, brought on, I suspect, from our upbringing, which, although we don’t like to admit it, are quite different from boys. Boys are encouraged to have burping competitions with their father and friends – boys know how to spit three meters before they are even out of nappies, boys think that cupcaking is the ultimate in high class humour, especially if you manage to do it with the victims own fart… girls are not allowed to burp. Farting, heaven forbid, is something that smelly snot nosed boys do – not something any self respecting Barbie doll connoisseur would stoop to… I feel that we are done an injustice…I’m talking here in particular about our higher risk of developing colonic cancer due to our general inability to push putt in anyone’s home but our own, and god forbid we try at a public restroom… “people will hear noises…they’ll KNOW…”

I have met numerous men who will walk into someone’s home, introduce themselves, walk straight into the bathroom, as the rest of us sit awkwardly in the lounge and try to make small-talk while the gentle sounds of someone gripping his ankles for better leverage and biting down on a face sponge (he has manners, you know) filters through the door – followed closely by the unmistakable scent of what can only be described as a good imitation of the largest sewer farm in existence – yes, you do see dead seagulls floating in there. He’ll exit, satisfied with a job well done and make an arbitrary remark about the 3 dozen burrito’s he ate last night that he suspects fell off the back of a truck…whoo hoo hoo, does anyone mind if he helps himself to a cheese, pickle and Bovril sandwich?

Did these men’s moms give them a sweetie once they were done? Did they get a pat on the back and a comment about how proud mommy was that they finished their business?? Who da big boy then, who, who??? I suspect so. Women, on the other hand, slink out of offending toilets only once they have established - by sitting still and holding their breath, listening for any sounds of occupancy, to checking under the cubicle door - that no other being is actually anywhere near the drop zone. We dash out, like someone fleeing from a hit and run, close the door almost all the way – in the universal sign for future cubical users to NOT GO IN THERE – wash our hands in shame and creep out, preferably pretending that we, in fact, were not in the bathroom at all, but admiring the fine workmanship of the grouting on the tiles in a room as far away from the offending loo as is possible. We bundle up big rolls of toilet paper to line the bottom of the toilet with so as to disguise the noise made by doing something as essential to existence as eating. We buy large handbags so that we have space to keep deodorant bottles at hand in case of any emergency – no – there is no other reason, women would be quite capable of surviving with just a wallet and car keys if it wasn’t for our desperate need to conceal the odour associated with dropping the kids off. We sit for an extra five minutes in the bathroom every time we go, so that when we do eventually do need to do a number two – no-one will be able to tell based on the length of time we were away… yes my friends, this is the awful world we live in.

Just a little tip here guys, if you’ve ever taken your girl out, and you end up spending the day visiting friends or going to watch a movie, and she suddenly changes from being the sweetest lil hunny bunny that you ever did see into something that gives new meaning to Alien vs Predator – I can guarantee you that it’s not because she hates your friends/doesn’t want to spend time with you/is riding the cotton pony…it’s because she is barely holding on to her sanity due to severe stomach cramps and the thought of using a toilet that - because it is not her beautiful secluded porcelain throne at home with the legless Barbie in a doily hiding a toilet roll under her skirt – has all the appeal of the revolting latrine in Trainspotting – you know the one I’m talking about – where you have to be a heroin addict to consider using it. Have a heart guys - take the poor girl home.