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There's
an email message going around showing a couple of pictures that pretty much sum up the difference between the genders. One
picture shows two simple push buttons, one labeled On and the other Off. The caption on this picture: Men.
The other shows dozens of buttons, knobs, levers and gauges in a dizzying and complicated
array. This one is called - you guessed it - Women. The obvious implication
is that women are a high-maintenance sector of our species. I thought of that graphic depiction the other day when my husband
and I were having one of our regular conversations about access to the master bathroom.
Even after many years of
marriage, we sometimes have these tense and high-decibel discussions because my mate refuses to accept the Rule of Triple
Reciprocity that has been in place ever since Eve needed more time at the bathing brook than Adam.
The rule
says that women get triple the time and space in the bathroom as men.
A wise and reasonable man would resign himself
to this timeless reality and add a second sink or, better yet, build a whole other bathroom. This would allow the wife of
such an admirable man to enjoy her God-given right to leisurely bask in the boudoir.
An unwise and unreasonable
man, a man whose picture is placed next to the word cheapskate in the dictionary,
would insist on sticking with a solitary sink and shower, brutally throwing a monkey wrench into the convoluted process that
is necessary to keep his wife looking like her lovely self.
( Continued
below picture.)
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| Cartoon by David Brown -- davidbrowncartoons.com |
Over the years, I've developed a highly effective,
multi-step system for getting ready every morning. Each phase in this process is divided into a series of tasks, and each
task is absolutely essential to achieving the goal of rendering me fit to face the world. Phase 1 is taking a shower.
While a man might think this is a simple procedure involving
a bar of soap and minimal scrubbing, such a man would be wrong. A woman's shower ritual requires numerous wash cloths,
loofah, pumice stone, fruity face soap, vitamin-enhanced shampoo, herbal-infused conditioner and, of course, honeysuckle shaving
cream. A woman's shower, especially my shower, cannot be rushed.
Phase 2 - the after-shower - includes putting
on various lotions and oils designed to soften, smooth and perfume my newly cleaned and conditioned body. That leads directly
into Phase 3, when I momentarily leave the bathroom and enter my closet to decide what to wear. It's usually during this
phase that my husband, employing guerilla warfare tactics, sneaks into the bathroom and jumps into the shower, rapidly steaming
up the place and fogging the mirror.
This threatens to stall Phase 4 - the application of makeup - and usually leads me to lovingly suggest that my man's
allotted 30 seconds have elapsed, and he should exit the premises without further delay.
That's when things get dicey. The timing between Phase 4 and Phase 5 -- the all-important,
multi-appliance hair-styling step - is crucial. Any kind of unexpected setback, such as if my husband turns stubborn and stays
in the shower, means that my hair will fail to achieve the desired fullness, and I will be cruelly condemned to a Bad Hair
Day.
A Bad Hair Day wipes out all of
my hard work and leaves me grouchy as a grizzly. I'm a high-maintenance mamma bear who needs her own bathroom. Maybe someday,
I'll get it.
© Jackie Papandrew, All Rights Reserved
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