When you have to visit a public bathroom, you
  usually find a line of women, so you smile politely
  and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check
  for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is
  occupied.
 
  Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly
  knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in
  to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the
  wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
  The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented
  by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You
  would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was
  one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly
  drape it around your neck,(Mom would turn over in her
  grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your
  pants, and assume " The Stance."
 
  In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles
  begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you
  certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay
  toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
 
  To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach
  for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper
  dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's
  voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the
  seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!"
  Your thighs shake more.
 
  You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your
  nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your
  purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now,
  you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at
  the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it
  in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than
  your thumbnail .
 
  Someone pushes your door open because the latch
  doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is
  hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and
  you and your purse topple backward against the tank of
  the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach
  for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled
  tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing
  altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET
  SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all
  too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made
  contact with every imaginable germ and life
  form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down
  toilet paper -not that there was any, even if you had
  taken time to try. You know that your mother would be
  utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're
  certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet
  seat because,frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what
  kind of diseases you could get."By this time, the
  automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so
  confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water
  like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that
  sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and
  runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush
  somehow sucks everything down with such force
  that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser
  for fear of being dragged in too.
 
  At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the
  spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
  exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you
  found in your pocket and then slink out conspicuously
  to the sinks.
 
  You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with
  the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with
  spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of
  women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile
  politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the
  line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from
  your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You
  yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's
  hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need
  this."
 
  As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since
  entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed,
  he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse
  hanging around your neck?"
 
  This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a
  public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!).
 
 
  It finally explains to the men what really does take
  us so long.
 
  It also answers their other commonly asked questions
  about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so
  the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your
  purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!
 
  This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else
  could describe it so accurately!
 
  Send this to all women that need a good laugh AND,
  don't forget to have a mammogram!!!!!! It could save
  your life!