humour

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The other day I had to speak to a Lawyer and after I was done adulting, my first impulse was to suck my thumb to restore balance. Yes, on paper I am thirty years old, but inside I’m not a day over sixteen. And I’m not talking maturity, although I do still laugh when people fart. It’s more of a feeling and the more people I talk to about it, the more I realize that that feeling never really goes away.

There isn’t a more perfect example of this feeling then when I purchase alcohol. I prescreen the LCBO cashiers in an attempt to decide which one is least likely to I.D. me. Again, I’m 30. After I’ve chosen my preferred cashier, I hop in line and vibrate with anxiety. The next defensive technique I adopted is having my Air Miles card at the ready, because what underage kid would have an Air Miles card? I end up so consumed with not getting carded that my face reads suspicious bitch despite the laugh lines and greys. I avoid eye contact, reply no thanks when the cashier asks me how I am and slide my ever-ready Air Miles card into the debit machine.

“I.D. please”

Damnit. I present my I.D. and stand worried that the layers of make-up I applied in an effort to have a nice Driver’s License photo have now made me unrecognizable in person.

“Thank you.”

Oh thank god. My body releases pounds of tension and I strut seemingly weightless out of the store. I run home as if I got away with murder. Once in my apartment, I crack open the bottle of wine, pour a glass and draw a bath. I soak away all the aches and pains of getting older while I text my best friend, “you’ll never guess what happened today, I got fuckin’ carded! Still got it!”

I most certainly DO NOT still got it.

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Whitney Cummings has revolutionized the way I pee. In her new book I’m Fine… and Other Lies she explains why women take frequent trips to the bathroom: they never fully empty their bladder. Everyone is familiar with the Squatty Potty and the adorable Unicorn that made rainbow shits look appetizing. What this fun commercial didn’t explain was the squatting position that the apparatus placed you in was also beneficial for female bladder evacuation.

Cut to me in a public bathroom stall pressing my hands against the stall walls to anchor myself as I lean back and lift my feet off the ground. It’s good for the core. What it’s not so good for is making sure pee stays in the pee receptacle. But alas, as someone who has been known to hover to avoid butt to seat contact, I am no stranger to pee on the toilet seat. The small mess is a welcome possibility if it means fewer trips to the water closet.

The part that I do have qualms with is why, OH WHY is a bathroom revolution not in full swing? Gluten becomes an issue and suddenly every restaurant jumps at the opportunity to add gluten-free options to the menu. People express a frustration that their phone battery dies too quick and suddenly free charging stations pop up in malls and bars. Not to mention a simple walk to the bank became so inconvenient, that banks were forced to introduce cheque deposits by way of photographs.

While celiac disease is a real thing and affects many, the gluten-free lifestyle has become a bit of a fad. As for the other two examples, it’s a sign of the times that people have become both obsessed with technology and just plain lazy. If the world can come together and make adjustments for things that can really be boiled down to an inconvenience, why can’t we come together and make changes that would drastically improve the standard of living and thus health? I’m not asking to cure world hunger, though if that is what you’re offering then I gladly accept. What I am asking for is a small step, metaphorically and literally. Can we please make footstools in bathrooms readily available? Colons will be happy and bladders will be weightless.

And this way, when your girl makes one too many trips to the bathroom during dinner, you’ll know for sure that she doesn’t have a weak bladder but that she’s calling her friends for advice on how to leave this crappy date.