Bathroom Discourse, Part 2

I have many issues with the office bathroom. There are three stalls. I always choose the farthest one away because that way no one passes by it and so they don't see me in it (although I'm not sure it matters, but I don't like the thought of being recognized through the little cracks around the door). When I am wearing black or another non-recognizable color, I am more okay with using the middle or closest stall because it is less likely that someone will recognize me in those colors, versus, for example, today's bright blue shirt I'm wearing. I think I don't like to be recognized because I don't like it when people come in once I'm already in a stall because I hate to think that they might assume that I've been in there for a long time.

I hate being in the bathroom when there are other people there because I hate the judgement surrounding hand washing. I wash my hands, but I won't do it when there are other people there because I don't want them to think I'm doing it only because I have to, or because I should. So I wait to wash my hands until whoever is also at the counter leaves. I'll pretend to fuss with my hair or my clothes to kill time until they go.

I know is uptight, but I am frequently horrified when people are in there for Number 2 reasons. Not because I'm denial about our body functions, but because some people are not at all uptight, and it makes me feel awkward. Example: An editor will be standing in the bathroom and having a conversation with me about a story we've worked on together or whatever, and then, when she goes into a stall and I turn to wash my hands (sometimes I wash them if someone is in the bathroom, but not actually there to see) and she farts loudly from the stall. I think, 'Wouldn't she try to hold it until she hears me leave?' I would care if someone heard me fart like that and knew it was me. If someone heard me fart, I'd think that would be all they'd ever remember about me. They'd be thinking about it when I'm talking to them about what book we should review or what source I found for the new story.

Another time I heard a godawful fart (followed by a noise like the one a garden hose makes when you first turn it on) from someone in the closest stall (when I was in the farthest) and I looked at the feet to see if I could recognize them. It was one of the young designers. I could tell because she wears these socks that have little pom-poms on the heel.