About Nude Not Naked

Decided to pop into the shopping mall today. E is away with her beloved (hairy) macho boyfriend somewhere in the jungle again. PY is with her hubby and I can only take a maximum of two hours of domestication before running for dear life. Loitering about alone is a far better option than shopping with girlfriend AND HUSBAND (and kid) in tow. I love kids but trust me, whatever shopping craving you had the morning you stepped out the door vanishes as soon as the child screams for attention (and one diaper change and two milk bottle feeds, plus endless stopping so the tall toddler can jump in and out the stroller). Some days I like to play good, loving Aunty Otto. Today just was not one of those.

Tried on probably eight shades of beige-gold eyeshadow on my left hand before deciding on an aqua and a green. Bought Glamour UK edition and scooted my bottom to Starbucks. Was greeted by the staff and sat down with my tall raspberry frappucino. Skipped the first three quarter of the tiny magazine and dived straight into the fashion section.

My 70s hair flick is now a little long. Hairdresser must love me because I am her most frequent customer (I like to think). Yes, I definitely need a haircut. There are so many new smart styles out for spring/summer 06 and it is amazing how I can visit my hairdresser every three weeks maximum. I cannot live without my hairdresser. Or for that matter, the girl that washes my hair.

Ohhhhhh massage, massage... I imagine I would grip the arms of the black chair tightly and intermittently I would flex and relax my grip as the fingers move in circular motion. *meow*

Am excited for tonight. It should be fun and I bloody ought to go out before cobwebs start growing in you know where... my shot glasses are gathering dust, turning into a morgue for the six legged! I need a drop of vodka and perhaps seven more after that.

Went to the toilet. I mean, can you actually drink a glass of those frappucinos without? In amongst the group, I am known as Small Bladder... and this is already me with the improved and trained bladder (had to hold a lot when travelling). Waited in line behind two girlfriends, busy chatting and laughing. A cubicle soon was vacated and I pointed out to the girls, who shook their heads. I shrugged and entered, passing the lady previously occupying the cubicle. No wonder they did not want to use, I mumbled to myself. It was a seated toilet, with the toilet seat up and the sound of water flowing in the next cubicle.

So this is what I did - in case boys out there are curious - turned around and unzipped my pair of trousers. With a 2-inch zip, unzipping was a swift task. So swift it was that the Great Swifty would have been proud. Balanced myself and aimed properly (yes, girls have to aim too!). Or at least I aimed. You see, I was hovering above the seat. Not actually sitting on the seat, but hovering. I am not keen on catching some nasties if I sat on the off white cracked plastic seat that was probably sat on by more than 20 people in a day for the pass three years or so.

So there I was, hovering on the seat in my three inch pink pumps from Aldo. Steady. Yes, gently does it. Oh yes, this is how it is done...

Wait a minute!

*pause*

That lady before me..?

*pause*

She hovered too cos the seat was up when I entered. Damn, she was heavily pregnant! I placed my two hands on the cubicle wall to support myself as I pondered upon it while hovering on the toilet bowl.



Holy Mother of all girls who hovered on the public bowls!

My salution to her hovering skills. Albeit on flats but with a tummy that huge, it must have posed quite a challenge.

Many a second later, I zipped up and left the cubicle having more respect for pregnant ladies out there.



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Girls who hover, hands up! Do you sit? Do you squat? Do you hover like me? Do you have a quirky toilet habit that no one knows about? Come on, time to confess....