Reason 249

Peeing. Originally this post was going to shed some light on my nearly supernatural ability to delay my need to use the nearest toilet for hours on end, which is quite handy during long flights and roadtrips like the one I embarked on last week. Unfortunately, I've discovered my bladder isn't as voluminous as I once believed because ever since I left home I've needed to pee like a race horse every two hours or so. Months ago on one of her health-themed shows Oprah claimed a healthy person urinates about once an hour, and since Oprah is the closest thing we have to a real, live deity in America, I don't feel too bad about dropping my pants so often. Since I've lost about twenty pounds in the last few months the only reasonable explanation for the sudden change in the frequency with which nature is calling is that my bladder has shrunk right along with the rest of me. My mother snorted at this highly scientific theory, but I can honestly see no holes in my water-tight (or rather, urine-tight, as the case may be) hypothesis. So, Jason, I cannot entice you into lifelong friendship with a claim of never interrupting a super-fun moment by searching for a loo. I can, however, point out that when I do need to empty my shrunken bladder I am content to do so just about anywhere. Sketchy gas station bathrooms and fetid outhouses don't dissuade me from unzipping and letting loose. Rest stop stall with no door? I'll unbutton my pants without hesitation. In fact, my favorite place to cop a squat may just be the great outdoors. Perhaps it's the murky cavegirl DNA in me, but peeing in the middle of the woods (or atop a mountain, which I did today) makes me quite happy. And, as an added bonus, I don't waste toilet paper (Sheryl Crow would be proud) or need to wash my hands with gross liquid soap afterward. You should be so lucky to call such a low maintenance, eco-friendly woman like me your friend, Jason.