The Women's Washroom Chronicles

'Come with me to the washroom', we beg and plead with our female friend of choice, scared to take on the crowd and perhaps awkward run ins that may ensue. The friend of choice comes (after a good eye roll and a check in the nearest reflection.) We sigh and take in a breath of relief, with a knowingness that we are no longer alone. As we walk away into the mystical women's washroom, we are suddenly confronted with more than we were looking for.

Why is it, that all the drama is acted out in a room smaller then my walk-in closet? How is it - I ask - that we overhear way more then we asked for, when we were solely just responding to our way too obscenely, tiny bladders? The answer my friends; our fellow women. That's right. If a blonde, bronzed, twentysomething enters onto the set of a public washroom, drama is to be had. Note to my male readers: This is why we don't enter said scene alone.

You know those overly, typical teen movies where you hear a couple of catty bitches bashing up a storm, and then the camera closes up on the woman in the stall? Screw teen movies, there are even Sex and The City episodes where that situation is played out. Unfortunately, in regards to the women's washroom chronicles, you hear anything and everything. To the persons date, to their sex life, to their ex to their hatred for that hottie with a body who said but a mere hi to their man - girls in the washroom bring it on in every sense of the phrase.

I've walked in on the most obscure conversations. I've heard girls chastising their men for even glancing at a female friend. I've heard girls crying that so-and-so's ex has arrived at the bar. I've heard girls complaining that their tits are too small and their heart is too big. At the end of the day, I've decided to start using the men's facilities. Not only is the line up shorter, but I don't go home (breathing deeply) worrying about someone else's issues, nor do I go home feeling terrible about myself. I also get somewhat of a rise using the men's washroom. It's risque and it almost always guarantee's a deep-voiced bouncer knocking on the stall door and asking to please remove myself from the males washroom. Talk about a rush! Oh, and not to add, nothing beats - with but a glance of my YSL trib too's - my male friend's shouting out 'Jenny Jen, my girl. is that you?' when they notice the 4.5 inches peering out of the bottom of the only stall.

The women's washroom in any public setting is - in my hazel eyes - comparable to a confessional at a church. And as a predominantly happy and confident twentysomething, I'd rather hear no evil, see no evil.

So, as I sign off on this post, I have but a few reminders for my fellow female friends:

- never assume the person you are talking about isn't listening; life has a very interesting and backstabbing way of working out and more so then not, they are in fact in that singular stall next to you.

- don't say anything in a washroom that you wouldn't say in your facebook status, You never know who is listening and who is going to share this on a public domain. If what you have to say is personal and you want to get it off your chest, type it out in a Blackberry Note or text yourself. Once you've woken up in the morning, judge if you want to share it with a close friend to get their opinion.

- respond instead of react. Don't over exaggerate. Take any situation for what it is and look at it from an outsiders point of view. If you take time to respond and not listen to your bodies natural reactions, chances are, you'll feel much better (and make less of a fool of yourself) in the washroom.

- lastly, just go alone. As tempting as it is to invite a friend, flying solo will force you to keep your lips sealed and though it seems challenging at the time, chances are you'll be more thankful come morn.

xoxo
- Jenny Jen