This year I forayed into a different creative arena—community theater. My husband often thinks I am in the full throws of Alzheimer’s. He constantly accuses me of forgetting things that I happen to know he never told me. I decided that memorizing lines would prove to him that I was not the mentally deficient one in the family. In truth, I learned once again, that my husband is only one of many men out there who have lost their minds.
I found my evidence in the bathroom on the set. There is no delicate way to say this, so brace yourself. When I went to the bathroom, tucked away behind the stage, I sat down and almost screamed. I was staring into a double sized full length mirror. It was definitely not my best side. Now who would do something so stupid? It had to be a man.

After the first jarring moments however, I could see possibilities for such a decision. You could take the time sitting there to fix your makeup, hair, or maybe even pluck your eyebrows and still make curtain call. Genius or stupidity—hmmm.

The bathroom has always been a tacky subject. When I was growing up and dating, I would rather endure horrific pain than to have to excuse myself for a potty break. Only the very real threat of wetting myself and everything else in the near vicinity made me give in to my shyness. Apparently, my timidity lingers on.

In our huge church building, some genius—it could only be a man--designed the building to have only one bathroom for men and one for women. Not only that, but they are tucked away in the same corner, right beside a drinking fountain.

It wasn’t a problem when my children were little. I could take one of them by the hand and pretend they were the ones who had to go. Now I have to brave it by myself. After all, it’s not like I can randomly grab the hand of some child wandering down the hallway.

 Here is the typical church bathroom experience. First, you greet the group of women standing against the wall chatting. That’s not so bad. It’s greeting the man who inevitably walks up beside you, then peels off to the right into the men’s room while you peel left into the women’s.  It's like a great bathroom choreography.

I once overheard a man say that nothing was worse than shaking someone’s wet hand because you knew they had just come out of the bath room. That man has led a sheltered life. I can think of a whole lot of things worse than that. However, our church is famous for it’s handshaking.

Since hearing that comment, I make sure to completely dry every speck of water off my hands before I leave so I can shake hands with the man or men who will inevitably be outside the door. Not that it is any great mystery as to where I was when they see me walk out the door that has WOMEN boldly emblazoned on the outside. After all these years, I still haven’t come up with the perfect ice breaker for moments like that one.


Connie said...

TeeHee, giggle. Ya, it kinda makes you wonder if the hands are wet because they didn't dry them well or if know, EWWWW! I think from now on I will look at the floor when exiting the bathroom so I avoid any eye contact thus avoiding the invitation to shake hands and have a conversation.

Betsy Love said...

I always love to read about your "craziness". So fun!


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