Saturday, February 13, 2010

Why Parenting and Dignity Don't Mix: Reason 267

I was bursting for the loo in Tesco today, so I hurried up my shopping and rushed us through the check-out. I wheeled the trolley with Lolly in it, Fifi walking along beside me, into the disabled toilet, because it was the only one big enough for a trolley. The disabled toilet is located away from the normal toilets and is just a room with a door facing out into the main part of the store.

I shut the door and locked it, only vaguely registering the fact that the lock was fairly loose, and sat down for a pee. Seconds later, with my trousers and knickers around my ankles, Fifi flung the door open. I screamed for her to shut the door, but the shock of me screaming left Fifi motionless, staring at me with surprise, while an army of shoppers waiting in the queue to check out watched as I helplessly sat on the toilet, begging Fifi to shut the door. I have no idea if it was Fifi who eventually shut the door, or a kind, concerned shopper, because by then my red face and streaming tears were hidden in my hands.

I finished my business and washed my hands, and then proceeded to wait a further five minutes or so until I hoped all the people who had seen me were finished checking out and gone. Nevertheless, I'm certain all eyes were on me as I did my walk of shame out of the toilets and out of the shop.

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