Turlit Delusions

This woman did not fart within her lifetime. It is also unlikely that she ever had a bowel movement. She did not secrete noxious bodily fluids of any type, ever. The cultural phenomenon responsible for this oddity is alive and well today, though thankfully not in my neighborhood.

Year: 1979 (Final year of High School)
Place: Evening shift at the brass factory.
Event: Mandatory shift meeting.
First item on agenda: Shift manager announces that the people (yes, plural) responsible for plugging the sinks in the women's restroom and then filling them with urine will be terminated when caught.
Crowd Reaction: Randomly dispersed high-pitched giggling.

From the beginning, the “purity of womanhood” myth was aggressively instilled in my southern Christian psyche. We were expected to carry this myth to our grave. Southern women were expected to reinforce the myth by never providing evidence that any bodily function had ever originated from their person, ever!

The thought of a female being dry-docked and scraped for barnacles was not only subversive, it was preposterous. The image of a female lifting a cheek would never cross the mind of a southern gentleman because it simply didn’t happen.
In an unquestioned act of faith, I accepted the premise that those angels of purity could somehow complete their biological functions without splatter, gaseous emission or any of the dangers associated with the use of wood-pulp based “cleaning” supplies. As I grew older, logic indicated a more realistic approach. While the concept of the immaculate “evacuation” required occasional revision, I foresaw no event that might pose a serious threat to this tradition. The spiritual separation between those hallowed givers-of-life and the undesirable byproducts of life would endure. Now here I was, confronted with disturbing evidence to the contrary.

Years before, I had watched Santa’s sleigh go down in flames. I was not concerned. The Easter bunny laid its last egg. I could not have cared less. My parents rutting like farm animals? That was a tough one but I got over it pretty quick. One by one those ridiculous cultural oddities fell, including the myths of divine benevolence and the trust between father and son. A short sermon, throw some dirt in the grave and move on. No big deal. The “purity of womanhood” myth was going down hard and I was confused by my reaction. Who were these women stuffing toilet paper in the sink drain, hiking their asses over the edge and pissing, one after another, until the sink was full? Maybe it was the organized nature of the incidents, in which multiple sinks were allegedly topped off, that threw me for a loop. The fact that I would have gladly helped them fill those sinks if they had asked didn’t make my reaction any more comprehensible or less ironic.

These days, I am happy to live in a world where women can rip one off and laugh about it, and they are no longer expected to endure the unscratched itch. The proverbial pedestal is in ruins, an artifact from a dark age of ignorance, and we men are free to leave the toilet seat in whatever position that suited our last bodily function. I say good riddance to chivalry and long live equality.