I’m sorry to those who expect this to be a blog about the harmful un-sanitized nature of public restrooms. It is not such a blog. Although it is sometimes known to be true for certain rest area stops and outhouses, I worry more about physically hurting myself with the stall doors than with the bacteria on the toilet seats and floors but I digress.
One day when I was… okay, it was last week… I went to the gym that I frequent. After sweating it out on the elliptical, I decided I needed a bathroom break. I wiped my forehead on my neighbor’s shirt tail and made my way over to the locker room marked ladies (at least I got that one right).
I chose the handicap bathroom because all of the other stalls were in use and because it makes me feel less claustrophobic. I opened the door… this is a piece of cake for a normal, coordinated human being; but for me, it is disaster. Still having a bad case of jelly legs from the thirty minutes of elliptical training, I fell against the door as I entered the stall. Bad news… Like most stalls, there is a metal hanger for your purse or coat, but instead of being at the top of the stall door which is easily cleared by my height it is at elbow level in this particular stall… I ran into this sturdy metal hanger with such force that I rocked the stall frames for all four areas and disrupted their occupants. I yelped in pain as I seriously restrained myself from curling into a ball on the floor. I nursed my elbow through the rest of my workout, and still had a dull pulsing ache when I went to bed that night.
The next day, instead of a war wound or goose egg or even a simple bruise, my skin was only the palest shade of yellow. I can't even be proficiently clumsy!
who needs 'booty traps' when clumsy is on your side,
Jessica
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