If there was only one thing I could tell you about myself, it is without hesitation, or even a second thought, that I despise toilet humour. Never has a word been more befitting than 'despise' in this case.
You'd be surprised how many actual real life (ridiculous) arguments I've had over this issue with otherwise intelligent human beings. I'm learning that they're the ones to watch. The goings on of your digestive system are thankfully none of my business. You can wax lyrical to me about all your other ailments but knowing the ins and outs of your comings and goings is just plain uch! for lack of a better word. (side note: is 'uch' even a word outside of Wales? Am I shooting myself in the foot by alienating such a large section of my intended audience with these nonsensical Welshisms? Should I shut-up now?)
You can lecture me about the both necessary and natural needs of relieving oneself, because God only knows I could do with hearing that one hundred and one times, it may surprise you to know that I'm not plain stupid, I'm just wilfully ignorant to the movements of your bowels. And by 'your' I mean everyone else that isn't me. I don't discriminate either mind you, best friend, boyfriend, stranger, passer by, it doesn't matter. Here's a 'cute' story to illustrate this. On my twenty-second birthday I, along with Boyfriend and some other friends, went for an impromptu late night, sit down Indian meal. The next day I was leaving for Spain and I was most upset to be leaving Boyfriend behind and then the unthinkable happened. He farted. Needless to say, after that I found my departure a lot easier to handle. (I'm sure that may have been his plan all along. That crafty little swine.)
In a house as busy as mine, the bathroom served as a personal sanctuary, which may sound weird but in a lock-free house, a shut bathroom door was the only room where the 'closed door. keep out' rule was abided by. I used this to my full advantage, spending hours stood in front of my magnifying mirror, staring at my pores and non-existent wrinkles, over plucking my eyebrows, pretending my bubble bath was a pool and thinking, lots and lots of thinking. To me it was a quiet place in the hubbub of the house with the added convenience of a lavatory if I so need to use the facilities. And the best part is that my family share the same prude-gene as I, so they would never ask what I'd been doing in there for fear of an over share (as if I would anyway!).
Many an outfit has been planned, perfected and dissected all during my morning pee. Being stuck in the same spot for more than the time it takes to compose a tweet, really allows a good deal of outfit reflection. I start with the jewellery - I think it's a saddening mistake that women accessorise after having gotten dressed - I belong to the more is more school of dress, therefore additional rings are added, as too are bangles because any less than three is just a waste of arm space. And just for good measure, I like to do a shoe check or more often than not, a pause of admiration to commend my good shoe choice. It's an exercise in accessorising.
And just in case you think I'm spouting off a load of nonsense, here's a lesson to you all. I had just finished work and was having a dinner and drinks thing with a few friends. I had absolutely no time at all to get ready but like the super girl that I am, I braved the seemingly impossible and ended up, late. Due to the whole time constraint thing that plagues my life, I wasn't quite able to test my outfit's functionality, that is until I went to use the toilet of the restaurant. Perhaps I should describe my outfit before I go on any further. As I've already said we were doing dinner and drinks, the purpose being to meet a friend's new boyfriend. My outfit therefore needed to be casual yet memorable (he works in retail and you never know where your next job will come from. I mean contacts people!) I had my favourite dark wash, high waisted, ankle grazer skinny jeans on - I love them because they have just the right amount of stretch in them to avoid misshapen knee syndrome). My highest (and comfiest) platform mary jane sandals, a fabulous blue bib necklace from Zara, an equally fabulous red string beaded necklace (because I'm equal parts cool and devastatingly hot. Lol jk). And the piece de resistance was a black sheer button-up with fringe trim along the midriff, all finished off with a top knot, because nothing's more chic than a bun (plus I desperately needed to wash my hair) and stacks and stacks of jewellery.
(My ideal wrist adornments)
So here I am, in the toilet cubicle and I've managed to drink a jug full of water (we were at an Indian and I'm a baby when it comes to spicy food), I needed to go. NOW. So off I teetered. Door closed. About to undo my belt and then it happened. I was ensnared by the fringe, stuck in the very things I chose to adorn my body with. Every time I moved, I got further entangled. It was like quicksand and I was sinking deeper and deeper. Plus the urge to 'go' was getting greater and greater and what made it all the worse was that I couldn't stop laughing at my dire situation. I mean uncontrollable laughter, like an actual crazy person. After much self-control and the delicate fingers of a child to unpick my way out of my self-made disaster, I was free. The relief was insurmountable. On leaving the rest room I vowed never to forgo my now mandatory bathroom check ever again.
And here it is. A whole post, centred on the very thing that I vowed never to speak of. I'm not purporting that we over share but some things are just funny enough to bridge that gap and break my rule. I love fashion and I often find inspiration in the oddest of places - as this post is testament to. Life is full of embarrassment, which is often only furthered by our sartorial inclinations, but the funny is ever-present. So remember, the toilet is your throne of sartorial enlightenment or at least your chance to check the status of your sock co-ordination or leg hair situation. Go forth and squat.
