Okay, so I know I’m carrying around a rather rotund belly these days and that navigating life is expected to be somewhat of a tighter squeeze – I know that! – but seriously, my adventures into public washrooms is getting to be ridiculous. I don’t know who the heck designed these washroom stalls, but I can assure you, it was NOT a woman. Actually, let me rephrase that: It was NOT a pregnant woman!
These things are freaking ass small!
Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if my “little” thumb-sucking alien baby came into this world with a nasty concussion. I kid you not, for two months now, I’ve been whacking my belly hard with the stall doors trying to get the hell out of a space that’s more suitable for sardines than a pregnant chick!
And believe me, after the first fisticuffs with the door (much to the amusement of the stick-thin girl on the other side) I’ve been trying to be careful, trying to suck in my belly, trying to squeeze through the paper-thin slot, and once even contemplated worming my way out on the ground, but yeah, that’s just disgusting. Try as I might, though, there is no safe way out.
Three different washrooms. Three different trappings.
The number of times my belly’s been hit, I’m surprised it’s not black and blue or at the very least flattened by the force. And I’m thinking it’s high time we girls took over the design of these stalls, OR, for someone to design a pregnancy specific stall… now that’s an idea! Because while this loo mural is cute and all, it does nothing for me safely vacating the tiny space within, nothing at all.
Until then, I’ll be going into the handicap washrooms, thank you very much, and if anyone questions me, I’ll point to the belly with a look on my face that says don’t you dare mess with this full-bladdered pregnant chick. Because while we may look sweet and innocent carrying these bundles, don’t underestimate the power of our hormones – especially when we need to pee 😀