The Battle of the Bulge

It was so exciting! My roommate and I were preparing for a wonderful evening with two wonderful guys who, ironically, are not with us anymore, and I don't blame them. Let me explain. All dressed up in nearly matching red dresses, we were helping each other style our hair, do our makeup, etc. We looked really good, if I do say so myself. I think our confidence level had an almost supernatural boost, something much needed in a stressful time of college, financial issues, difficult classes and work. A relaxing evening was just what the doctor ordered. "Hurry! Hurry! Get the perfume!" I yelled. "Oh, okay! Don't forget the red nail polish," she replied. Not a moment later, "Ding- Dong. Knock, knock, knock." "They're here!" We both whispered in frenzy. For once, I was the first one ready, so I confidently answered at the door. Both of our dates looked amazing, smelled amazing, and oh, yeah, this was definitely going to be a night we would never forget. They both embarrassingly admitted that they had forgotten to use the restroom before they left. "No problem, you know where it is!" I replied. It always excited me when people came to visit my apartment. We were located on the second floor of a little yellow house. The tiny staircase led directly to the bathroom, my beloved bathroom. They say the bathroom is the second favorite room for a woman. It was my first! When you walked in, the shower was on the right side with the toilet hidden behind it, and the sink and mirror were directly in front of the potty. It had cute country décor and a baby blue shower curtain for our big bathtub. I knew my bathroom like the back of my hand, as I had to use it when the electricity was off several times. So, the guys used the wonderful bathroom and informed us that they would be waiting for us to finish last minute touch ups. By that time, my adrenaline was rushing quickly and I was frantically running around, trying not to keep the guys waiting. My high heel shoes were cackling on the hollow floor, nearly causing me to slip down the stairs to the floor below me, but I managed to catch myself. "Whoops, that was a close one," I sighed. I flew into the bathroom, darted to the toilet, and without looking, turned, pulled up my dress, squatted quickly and SPLOOSH! It was everywhere. The walls were soaked, the floor was soaked, and my beautiful new red dress was almost completely drenched. My wonderful date, whom I loved so dearly, had accidentally left the toilet seat up. Let me tell you. Toilet water, the same water filling up the many porcelain bowls of the world, is FREEZING at sub-zero temperatures. But, most memorably, bleach burns like none other. So there I was, stuck tightly in the depths of the toilet bowl, with my knees nearly touching my nose, screaming my full head off. I attempted to squeak out but failed as excessive laughter combined with tiny groans of pain from quickly forming bruises on my legs. My soaked bottom hindered my only possibility of escape. Meanwhile, my very confused, very worried roommate was pounding on the door, preparing for my rescue. My repetitive laughter cut short my explanation of the predicament. Without hesitating, however, she heroically broke through the door to find me there with my dress up to my neck, sunk in my doomed toilet grave. She was determined to get me out without the guys even knowing any issues had come up in the two minutes they had been waiting. Holding both of my hands with her feet on the wet floor, she jerked me out with an unimaginable force. Still laughing, we couldn't help but notice that the bruises on my legs extended to my bottom and my back. Please keep in mind that we still hadn't actually gone to the bathroom yet, if you know what I mean. I was completely humiliated. As I was preparing to walk out the door to change, I noticed why my roommate was laughing so unceasingly. She had gone in her pants, or dress, rather. I ran for my bedroom to change, avoiding any contact of anything or anyone else, so I could stop laughing. Both of us cleaned up, changed clothes, and were about to walk out the door when it occurred to us that the guys had been waiting for about fifteen minutes now. We couldn't believe we pulled it off without them finding out. "Why haven't they knocked? Aren't they wondering why we are taking so long?" we asked ourselves. Could it get worse? Oh yeah, it just did. It was the end of the summer, so we had left our windows open. They heard it all! The one whom I loved so much felt ever-so-terrible as we opened the door to find them standing there red from laughter and red from embarrassment. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Scold, scream, cry, and, heaven forbid, laugh again? You would think that guys would learn the importance of that tiny action at the ripe age of about two or three. Or maybe it's twenty-three? Oh, yeah, that's it. I can't blame him. We women never intend to cause inconvenience when we leave the bathroom, bedroom, every room smelling like flowers from our one puff of perfume. Or when we assume guys actually work towards being dumb, when so many times it comes naturally. No offense guys. Well, we quickly put on our coats and headed for the cars. My date and I scurried over to the restaurant for an exquisite meal for two. We had decided to drop the subject for a little while so that our stomachs could digest the food before we would have flashbacks and begin to laugh again causing indigestion and, eventually, vomiting all over the floor. We talked about our hometown, school, and family. It was a perfect date. That is, of course, if you overlook the fact that I got honey Dijon on my recently changed white dress. That was no biggie, though. I would take Dijon over potty water any day of the year. He needed to help me back out to the car as I ached in the pains of my swollen bottom. I will never forget my bathroom battle, now coined "The Battle of the Bulge". I don't think I will ever live it down, but I will always look before popping a squat. And ladies, I suggest you do the same.

— Briana, 23

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