Potty Party

Take it from someone with intimate knowledge, her skin IS that soft, her eyes are that sparkly, and her hair really is that thin. I’ve had the honor of meeting Queen Meryl on several occasions. Like me, Meryl is a Vassar alum and one evening at a Board of Trustees dinner that I happened to be invited to, we came as close as two women can get. Meryl arrived during cocktail hour, donning a distinguished red marching band suit. But after making this initial appearance, the Queen was M.I.A. Before dinner I went to use the bathroom – a very small room with one tiny stall, which was occupied. Peeking through the crack in the door – as one does – I caught a glimmer of something red. Could it be? After some time there was movement. The sound of someone struggling with the lock. A familiar voice echoed in that small chamber: “Oh dear!” And suddenly, bursting through the door, Meryl fell onto me. “Sorry!” she exclaimed. “That’s okay!” I gawked, trying to act cool as I entered the stall, happier than I’ve ever been that I didn’t need to poop. I listened to the sounds of a goddess washing her hands. And when I sat down, THE TOILET SEAT WAS STILL WARM! Some people have bosom buddies, but Meryl and I – we are bottom buddies…

My first mom friend was a former model. She was about 10 ft tall, with long, silky blond hair and a tiny waist. When my son was about 6 months old, she invited me to join her very hip birthday celebrations. It was the 1st time I’d gone out since having a baby, and I was feeling pretty good about myself and the ensemble I’d put together. But when I showed up at the club it was apparent that I was her only friend without long blond hair and a tiny waist. Several drinks later I had completely forgotten about our differences. I felt sexy rocking my curly brown bob on the dance floor and I went with the girls to pee together. As each girl pulled up their skirt, it dawned on me that under my sexy outfit I was wearing full-body Spanx. I watched each girl sit to pee, with thighs that barely expanded on the toilet seat. And when it was my turn, I hiked up my dress, pulled apart the crotch hole in the Spanx, and hoped to God my pee came out in an even stream

Published by imworriedmytherapisthatesme

I'm a history-PhD-turned-stay-at-home-mom of three. When I'm not microwaving Trader Joe's meals for my kids, breaking up fights and wiping butts, I like to paint and write. To cope with the endless hours I'm spending with my son doing virtual school, I've abandoned my gouache paints for the more portable, less messy tried but true, paper and ink. While he learns to read to 20 floating heads on his screen, I sit on a tiny chair, at a tiny table pretending to be a productive adult.

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