My sister is the queen of tchotchke gifts. Knicks knacks, riff raf, useless, trivial, funny, trendy gifts. It makes her incredibly easy to shop for. Figure out what cartoon or movie or comic book or Comedy Central show she is into at the time, and buy her a figurine. Done!

Occasionally, she’ll share this penchant with her loved ones. A couple of weeks ago, she got me a sheet of stickers that all say things like “I heart the flask of whiskey in my bottom drawer” and “I heart painting my fingernails with whiteout” and “I heart brown-nosing the boss.” They are all work-related, supposedly ironic things like that. Though I think they are funny, I have no idea what to do with them. I can’t think of one that I would willingly put on anything in my office. Mostly because I stopped putting stickers on things when I was about eleven, but also because I’m still fairly new here and don’t feel comfortable labeling myself, or my stapler, in that way.

However, one of the stickers says “I heart alone time in the bathroom.” This one I get. I love it and have considered on many occasions actually bringing it to work and putting it up in the ladies’ room. I probably won’t, but I have to admit that every time I walk into the bathroom and see that I’m the only one in there, I do a little happy dance. See, I pee A LOT.

When I was in about fifth grade, someone told me that drinking a lot of water is really good for you. Despite my Fruity Pebbles-eating, TV-watching, candy-inhaling, exercise-avoiding, ten-year-old lifestyle, I thought it was a good thing to try to be as healthy as possible. So I started drinking a lot of water. In junior high, I heard that caffeine is a diuretic so I stopped drinking soda. And I became a huge snob about it too. My brother Matt drank at least five Diet Cokes a day. My sister got really into root beer. And I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out why anyone would want to pollute his or her body in that way. Hmph! I probably even said that to them, as I ate my Hot Pocket or Cool Ranch Doritos.

Anyway, I got a bit addicted to drinking too much water. In college, amidst the smorgasbord of drink options in the cafeteria–every kind of soda you can think of, juice, coffee, hot chocolate, nonfat, skim, 2%, and chocolate milk, tea–I drank four glasses of water with each meal. I had an old Gatorade bottle I’d fill with water and keep in my mini fridge and if I didn’t refill it at least twice a day, I’d feel like crap about myself. This doesn’t even count the endless trips to the water fountain during class breaks, the rare but treasured dinner out, or buying bottles of water at football or baseball games.

These days, I always have at least two water bottles in my fridge at home. Usually a leftover Aquafina from a flight to Cali, or a Propel or Vitamin Water bottle. On mornings I don’t go to the gym, I drink at least one whole bottle of water while I’m getting ready. (Mornings that I do go to the gym, it’s more like one and a half.) Then I get to work and fill up my 32 oz. Nalgene bottle, just to have on hand while I’m drinking my green tea or decaf latte. I drink and refill the Nalgene bottle at least once throughout the day.

Almost every afternoon, I get a Diet Coke (or I splurge and hike to the second floor to spend $1 on a Diet Dr. Pepper, yum) and then I spend the rest of the day peeing out all the water I’ve taken in. Then I feel dehydrated so I drink a bunch more water.

On a GOOD day, I will have only visited the community bathroom here three times. It’s usually more like four or five times. I often wonder what the girls at the front desk, which I have to walk by on my way to the bathroom, think I’m doing in there. “Wow, that’s one hell of a UTI she’s got!” or “Is Girl the biggest cokehead you’ve ever seen or what?”

On a road trip with an ex-boyfriend, he got so frustrated with my constant need for bathroom stops that he threatened to insert a catheter that ran out the exhaust pipe of the car. (Yeah, we broke up.) I go through toilet paper at an alarming rate. I hardly ever make it through a whole movie without at least one bathroom break. Especially if it’s a lengthy, Oscar contender-type flick. I was most excited for my sister to move to Renton because it provides a rest stop on the drive between Portland/Hometown and Seattle.

In addition to needing to visit the ladies’ room frequently, I also have what I’ve heard referred to as a shy bladder. I just don’t pee in front of other people. Not my mom, not my sister, not boyfriends. No one. So, obviously I like my alone time in the bathroom whenever I can get it. Maybe I should bring the sticker in, put it on a little piece of cardboard and string, and hang it outside the bathroom door when I’m in there to scare other people off. Hmmm…

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go powder my nose.

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 12th, 2006 at 12:37 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.