Why I Started Doing It With My Clothes On!

We should at least respect, if we can't love each other because we are so much alike more than we realize. And I’m not talking deep down.  I mean even on the surface.

Take Bill Maher, for instance.  Anyone who knows me well, knows that I love that man.  No, not like that!  But, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was born on January 20, 1956 in New York City to a white couple while I was born in Antigua to two a black couple on December 9, 1969, I would not be convinced that we weren’t separated at birth.  We totally agree with almost every single issue.

Then there is Michelle Obama.  I see her parenting skills.  I see her family values. I listen to her. I observe her.  And I think, "That’s me".  As Wendy Williams would say, "She is my BFF in my head".

And don’t get me started with Chris Rock.  I swear he either has spies around me or we are just in sync with each other because on several occasions I have heard his jokes which were similar to ones I had previously made.  He is the one making the big bucks, but that’s neither here nor there.

But not even considering famous people, we all know or have met people and are amazed that they have so much in common with us, right down to the idiosyncrasies.

So let me get to the matter at hand…my quirky habit.

When I do this, I have to be in my element.  I cannot have any outside interference.  It has to be completely quiet.   No one can be in close proximity to me.  No disturbance whatsoever.  

Then I go to the bathroom, take all my clothes off, sit down and concentrate on my job.

I know it’s not table conversation, but just work with me a little bit here.  I promise not be graphic, unless you want me to.

The problem, however, is that I’m not always at home when I have to perform this function.  So, in my former life when I had a full time job, there were occasions when I had to do my do at work.  By the way, I wonder if that’s why some people call it do do.

First I would scope the bathroom to make sure no one was lurking around.  Then I would slip in and check the stalls to see if anyone was inside.  If someone was in the last stall, I knew she was doing the same thing and would be sympathetic to my cause, and wouldn’t mind too much if I joined her.

If however, someone was just making a quick stop, I would wash my hands and leave.  And if someone had just done the deed, there was no way I was staying because it would be impossible for me to concentrate with that lurking aroma.

Then I’d return and quickly execute my first step (scoping for idlers).  I’m a big germaphobe, so although I would not be sitting on the toilet seat, it had to be clean.  Hey, I could accidentally stumble and fall on it. So I grab a stack of paper towels, wet several and put soap on a couple.

I go into the stall, the one way at the end, and flush first.  Look, I don’t want settled water touching me because these gadgets are so strong that sometimes when you flush showers appear.  Then, I wipe the seat with the soapy paper towel. Then rinse it with a wet towel. Then I layer the seat with a few dry ones.  But I leave the seat wet, so they don’t fall off.  Then I sit down and begin my activity. 

On several occasions, as soon as I sit, someone would enter the bathroom.  And it would really be annoying if she has the nerve to come sit next to my stall.

Seriously, there are four or five empty stalls, why do you have to sit right next to me? Didn’t you get the memo about my needing to do this act without any interference?

And God forbid a few of them enter together and start yapping.  My gosh!  I need complete silence.  

Anyway, if it is a quick act, I'm alone again; but sometimes, someone comes in and does the same act like me, but performs it quickly.  Showoff!

I mean who does that in two seconds?  Something must be wrong with them because you know I’m the normal one, right.

So now I'm peeved and have to regain my bearings.  Man, these women just cannot follow simple instructions.  The nerve!

Anyway, on the occasions where no one bothers me, and I do my do, when I’m done, I need another five minutes to flush all those paper towels.  This I learned from experience.  I’ve tried to flush a few at once in my haste to leave the scene of the crime but had to really head for the hills when the toilet clogged up and appeared as if the water was running over.

And there is no way I’m sticking around to give any explanation.

But the reason why I gave all that background was because on such an occasion I was in the airport at Puerto Rico heading for Antigua.  I used to be real nervous when I fly, which sometimes caused me to have to do my do at the airport.

So I take my carryon with me, because I’m alone and can’t leave it unattended.  I also have to take my jacket and my handbag because who am I going leave them with.

So I get into the bathroom, and it’s empty.  Yes!  I’m feeling lucky.  Though really and truly I wouldn’t have cared since I wouldn’t even see these women again….EVER.  But then it’s Puerto Rico, en route to Antigua, so you never know.

Anyways, I take my shoes off, hoping I don’t have to go the full Monty.  Nothing.  I unbutton my jeans.  Nothing.  I take them off.  Nothing.  I take off my shirt.  Nothing.  I undo my bra.  Nothing.  I say "what the heck", and take EVERYTHING off.

And then finally............something!

But before I’m done, I hear the fire alarm, and I’m thinking someone accidentally touched it. Then I hear shouts and running and realize that there is a real fire at this airport, in a country where I don’t even speak the language.  

And I’m in the bathroom, butt naked.  So I struggle to quickly get my clothes on, but not before I finish my do, wipe thoroughly, then use the last wet one to clean myself.  

Hey, I don't want to spoil my day feeling not so fresh!

Then I scramble to the sink to wash my hands, with soap of course and then quickly grab some paper towels.  On my way out with the jacket in one hand, my handbag in other and my carryon clinging behind me, I’m searching for my lotion.  

Do you know how cold and dry these airports get?

And right there and then as I’m running out the airport, I vowed to find a way to do this thing with my all clothes on.

True true story, except for the part about the fire alarm and everything else that followed. 

But, perspectively speaking, anything is possible!