Potty Theory: What Every Woman Needs to Know What Every Man Wonders About
108
Potty Theory: What Every Woman Needs to Know What Every Man Wonders About
108eBook
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781491817001 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 09/23/2013 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 108 |
| File size: | 142 KB |
Read an Excerpt
POTTY THEORY
What Every Woman Needs To Know What Every Man Wonders About
By Amy Goodridge-Bakst
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013 Amy Goodridge-BakstAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4918-1702-5
CHAPTER 1
The Birth of Potty Theory
Ever wonder about the meaning of life? The vast majority of life's innumerable lessons can be explained in any given restroom. Take some time and contemplate the yin and yang of the potty experience. This rather encapsulated approach can tell us a lot about the world that surrounds us.
My upbringing in the Midwest was particularly happy and uneventful. Mine was the typical middle-class family: mom, dad, and older brother. I went to school, had plenty of friends, and experienced all the typical activities kids live through and participate in. That was the entirety of my early life. However, in one aspect of life I was more knowledgeable than other little girls. I call it "potty theory"—that's right, potty theory.
Actually, the term was coined by my husband, but it is a very appropriate description of a budding science. Well, the term science may be a little over the top, but potty theory involves the observation of toilets, restrooms, and all things pertaining to women relieving themselves—sort of a combination of civil engineering and logistics. How disgusting, you may be thinking. But rest assured there is a plethora of useful information to be shared in the following pages for the female species.
I am a natural-born "potty theorist." Okay, that may not be entirely accurate. The jury is out as to whether this trait is inherited or learned; perhaps it is a combination of both. That's a question for anthropologists and psychologists to sort out. However, one thing I undoubtedly did inherit from my mom are the world's most efficient kidneys coupled with arguably the world's smallest bladder. I believe that everyone must recognize and go with their strengths, and having these physical attributes led Mom to recognize her strength: potty theory. She was a true expert in the field. If there were an institution of higher learning anywhere in the world that offered a degree in potty theory, my mom would have had a PhD; in fact, she could have single-handedly headed up any university program. Mom was self-taught—homeschooled, as it were. Even so, the knowledge and information she gathered through the years regarding toilets and their impact on female plumbing was priceless. She was a pioneer in the field; as a matter of fact, as far as I'm concerned she was the pioneer in the field.
I still have sharp memories of Mom from when I was a wee tot. If we were in a store or restaurant and I had to pee, she would scope out the restroom faster than any Olympic timed trial. Then she would quickly assess the cleanliness of the restroom. Even if the toilet "appeared" clean, she would look for the tissue seat covers. One was never enough; no fewer than three was acceptable. If no seat covers were available, then layering the seat with toilet paper was the next best solution—and Mom's version of layering took the practice of potty theory to a whole new level. There had to be a large roll of paper for her to pull it off, and by the time she was done, there would be so much paper on the seat, it was more like a fluffy pillow under my butt. That made the whole potty experience somewhat less uninviting, and even comforting, to a point. Knowing there were protective, billowing layers between me and that silent beast was extremely reassuring.
Flushing the potty required great finesse. The paper had to be introduced into the bowl slowly to avoid a plug of monumental proportions. Mom accomplished this by grabbing softball-sized wads of toilet paper and sliding them one by one, alternating sides, into the bowl, flushing after each slide. Patience had to be exercised since the toilet had to be flushed after each slide. Yes, it was time-consuming, but it was much better than the alternative: a flood worthy of building an ark.
If there was not enough toilet paper available or the cleanliness of the toilet seat looked questionable, Mom would move to Plan B, lifting me over the toilet so I could pee. She always carried what seemed to be an inordinate number of tissues in her purse; it was her secret contingency plan, "just in case." This is yet another jewel of wisdom Mom bestowed upon me. You never know when you'll have to go into a toilet stall and—yikes!—there will be not a shred of toilet paper to be found. In a flash, that wad of tissues in your purse has become as valuable as a 1850s five-dollar gold piece.
Mom was my hero. She conquered every restroom she came into contact with in a matter of minutes, with the strength of Atlas and the precision of a SWAT team. Mom was the master and I the apprentice. Trust me, the apprentice learned well ... with the absorption of a sponge.
As I grew, my training expanded. The next lesson was the "squat, squeeze, and squirt" technique. Mom had leg muscles that rivaled a kangaroo's in grace, strength, and flexibility, and this technique called for straddling the toilet, crouching down (as close as possible to the seat without touching), squeezing, and then squirting. It was very important to hover as close to the seat as the law of gravity would allow, thus reducing the splash of water from inside the bowl. Touching the seat was never an option, since you never knew what kind of critters lived, even thrived, there. Take a moment to envision those critters roaming freely on the smooth surface of every toilet seat in the world. After you wrap your brain around that image, now imagine how many more unspeakable, even unthinkable, demons exist inside the toilet bowls. No horror movie in the history of Hollywood has ever come close to capturing the terror a public bathroom can inflict upon the psyche. For women, peeing in a public toilet is just like a diving competition: the fewer splashes, the better. If mastered, the "squat, squeeze, and squirt" technique eliminates the need for seeking out a toilet seat cover or padding the seat with enough toilet paper to make any Halloween prank pale in comparison. For me, the technique became particularly useful during school lunch periods, when time was of the essence. After a few years of this I had leg muscles that could rival those of any professional baseball catcher. I'm proud to say that, thanks to Mom, I still do to this very day.
Mom also instructed me to inspect the seat after I finished to make sure it had no pee droplets on it. If upon inspection a few strays were observed, the toilet seat had to be wiped off. Potty theorists should have consideration for their female compadres who venture into the stall after them: this was another bit of wisdom Mom drilled into me. You need the softball-sized mass of toilet paper or the wad of tissue paper from your purse to effectively pull this off. Take the toilet paper or tissues and wipe the seat gingerly, constantly cognizant of the distance between you, the paper, and the seat. Then gently drop the paper into the bowl, knowing you did a good deed by having compassion for the next female potty user.
Before long my education advanced to the graduate-level program: the athletic flush. The average person would think it requires no particular skill to push the handle that flushes all evidence down the neck of the toilet bowl. Au contraire—there is a certain dance the experienced potty theorist must perform to complete a successful trip to the bathroom. Mom could demonstrate the movement with the ease of a ballerina. Remember the critters that roam freely upon the seat? These same critters also have the reign of the entire outside of the toilet, as well. Ugh! Is there no safe haven anywhere? Not in the bathroom. Even the cleanest ones have a few critters roaming around, not to mention the demons in the bowl. You can clean and scrub twenty-four hours a day, but somehow those little rats will find a way to escape. After all, they have a decided advantage over us: they're microscopic! If only we could see them, then it would at least level the playing field. As things stand, we don't have a fair fight, the sneaky bastards! This fact is almost too much for the heart to withstand; however, it is a fact I learned early in life. It's the one fact that must always be at the forefront of your mind if you want to ensure you have a "sanitized" trip to the bathroom.
Please allow me to elaborate. The movement Mom perfected was ingenious; any trapeze artist working without a net would have been impressed and proud. It does take practice, however, and you need an incredible sense of balance—so much balance that it calls to mind another popular circus performer, the tightrope walker. In the United States, toilet flushing mechanisms usually are one of three varieties. The first is a handle mounted on the left side of the porcelain convenience itself. The second, the commercial variety, is a lever placed directly behind the toilet. The third and last, but certainly not least, is the industrial variety—a button centered on the top of the lid for initiating the "jet-propelled" flushing mechanism. To safely operate the first two varieties, you must plant your right foot firmly on the floor, lift your left leg to a fairly substantial height, and push the handle or lever down ever so slowly with your left foot. Slowly is the key word here, because the slightest jolt could tip the scales and send you reeling out of control. No one wants the experience of being slammed against the stall. Besides the loud bang and outward embarrassment that would ensue, you also would have potential critter contact. (During my training days I lived through a few of these unfortunate failures.) This flushing maneuver must be done without touching the sides of the stall with either hand, as limiting contact with the toilet and its surroundings is of utmost importance. (Remember the critters? They are always lurking.) It looks a bit like that classic move from The Karate Kid—awkward, but with a certain grace, plus lethal determination. Picture it: both hands gracefully dangling in the air, the left foot slowly but deliberately pushing down on the handle, and the right leg remaining steady and firm. Much like the mighty redwood trees in California, you need to be strong and unshakeable. I never inquired how long it took Mom to perfect that pirouette, but she taught me like a pro.
No doubt you're thinking, Why not just grab a wad of toilet paper and use that to push the lever? Then you'd have a successful noninvasive flush, and you'd also prevent any potential potty- floor transfer from your shoe to the handle to await the bare hand of the next traveler to the bathroom stall. To the novice, the foot flush no doubt seems a rather insensitive and uncaring act. However, my mom was neither of these things; in fact, she bubbled over with compassion conjoined with unyielding practicality. Her reasoning, in a nutshell: there usually is no washbasin in a public restroom stall, so no one has the opportunity to wash her hands before flushing the potty. More often than not, there is only the thinnest of thin industrial toilet paper available, and so, to put it politely, by using your foot to flush the toilet, you avoid picking up unwelcome DNA samples, critters, or other demons unknowingly deposited from previous potty visitors.
Potty theorists should adopt the Boy Scouts' motto, "Be Prepared," since you never know when an unexpected turn of events will crop up in a public restroom. One such surprise would be a flush-resistant handle. Not all handles are created equal; therefore not all handles can be approached as I previously described. When you encounter such a handle, it is immediately obvious. And how is that? It's simple: when you strike the pose, balancing yourself on your right foot and then pressing firmly down on the handle with your left, nothing happens. The handle stubbornly fights you back. The only solution is to apply more pressure, which is not easy since you are using your best tightrope walker moves. This is when you must switch your strategy midstream. You're no longer walking a tightrope; you're playing Twister. Leverage being the important element needed to complete a resistant flush, you should act accordingly. Raise your left arm up, elbow bent, and with your right foot still fixed on the floor, brace your elbow against the left side of the stall. Then and only then can you safely apply more pressure to the handle with your left foot. By following these instructions when confronted with a nearly frozen handle, your flushing experience will come to a favorable conclusion, with minimal critter contact.
The next design we'll discuss is the "jet-propelled" wonder flusher, which is my brother's personal favorite. In order to accurately describe this industrial innovation, I must first reveal the circumstances under which my family stumbled upon the jet-propelled potty. Many moons have passed since we were first introduced to this space-age invention at the Contemporary Resort during one of the family's many trips to Walt Disney World. The unassuming white potty sat innocently in the corner of our hotel bathroom. Two curious-looking aluminum-colored tanks perched on either side of the potty's base, and on the top of the tank was a silver button. My family had never seen a toilet with aluminum tanks strapped anywhere on it, let alone on the bottom. My brother, the adventure-seeker in Pottydom, walked confidently over to this porcelain wonder and, scratching his head, crouched down to further investigate the steely cylinders. After a few seconds he stood up and gently depressed the button on top of the tank. Woooooosh!!!!! A tsunami was unleashed from the docile cylinders into the bowl—and then it disappeared back through the bowl neck within a few seconds like a snapped rubber band. The initial shock made us all jump a few feet backward, and then we bubbled over with uncontrollable laughter. This potty design was an obvious manifestation of the space age: water-filled canisters with the thrust of a miniature jet engine. What an ingenious invention!
Ingenious or not, however, it is impossible to use the balancing foot technique to flush a jet-propelled potty. Your next logical course of action is to use the softball-size wad of toilet paper or tissues to firmly press the button, and then head for the hills. Considering how much force that flushing mechanism has, you should also shout "Fire in the hole!" before depressing the button. Unless you are a gymnast with double-jointed toes, it is better to resort to the paper than engage in any flushing activity that could potentially cause extreme bodily injury.
Another flushing mechanism has appeared on the scene in the few years since my mom's passing, but there is no doubt that she would have conquered this new technology too. Yes, we have all experienced it: the secret electric-eye sensor that determines, by either stream or body movement, when our task is completed. Well, as everyone knows, that technology works only in a perfect world; it usually doesn't work at all, or at least it doesn't work as expected. So you need to assess each situation as it arises. What do you do if you have a sensor that flushes only once before you're finished, or maybe doesn't flush at all? Obviously it's not acceptable to leave everything in the bowl and bolt from the stall. As true potty theorists, we control the potty experience; the experience does not control us. What to do?
Depending on the amount of toilet paper available, secure a softball-sized wad in your hand and look for the hidden button that allows you to manually flush the toilet. If there is not enough toilet paper to provide a protective barrier between you and the button, dig out that "just in case" wad of tissues in your purse. Okay, now you are armed and dangerous—but you have to be as quick as a Western gunslinger. Press the button and toss the toilet paper or tissues down the toilet in one complete, lightning-quick motion. Being fast is the name of the game, or you'll be left holding the wad (not the bag).
On the opposite end of that spectrum lies "Old Faithful." Yes, everyone's rear has been at the receiving end of an electric-eye flush that is the gift that keeps on giving. All you want to do is tinkle in peace, and instead you're dealing with a toilet that would fit right in among the geysers in Yellowstone National Park. To help minimize contact with critters or demons that could hitch a ride on the water and fly out of the bowl, there is only one possible solution: lift and dodge. It is not possible to minimize splash, since technology has taken that variable out of your control. In this case, all you can control is you. So lift yourself up on your tiptoes and let the electronic eye flicker, moving your behind around to dodge any stray water droplets that are using your undercarriage for target practice. (Now you have the complete picture: there is an invisible bull's-eye on your fanny.) When you're finished, wipe off the seat as previously instructed.
The time has come for you to scoot out of the stall. You think your mission is accomplished, right? Not quite. You need to wash your hands—better known as "potty claws." What are potty claws, you ask? Any time you relieve yourself, no matter how careful you are, critters will try to hitch a ride on your hands and go out the door with you. Critters love to share themselves with anyone, anytime, anywhere, so it's your duty to spoil their plot to take over the world. Wash your hands. It's a simple task that takes only a couple of minutes. Mom was always quick to point out all the poor fools who ran out of the restroom without stopping to wash their hands. They left with potty claws—a gross but real conclusion to the restroom event. When you see people do that, your imagination goes wild running the incident in reverse. If they didn't wash their hands, what else didn't they do? Is it possible they sat on the toilet without any protection? It's a good thing I have a strong stomach or just thinking about it could cause the whole situation to get ugly.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from POTTY THEORY by Amy Goodridge-Bakst. Copyright © 2013 Amy Goodridge-Bakst. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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