Gary Brown imagines what the inanimate among us are thinking. This month, some witty words from the bathroom bullies.It’s easy to be bullied in your bathroom. Show up in the morning even the least little out of shape and your bathroom scale will make a big deal out of it.
“Went a little heavy on the buffet last night, didn’t we?” the cruel and unfeeling device will ask—insinuate, really—when we step onto it.
Well, it might not come right out and verbally mock us. But, we know what it’s thinking.
“Mind stepping off, lard-butt? I’m kind of maxed out here. I can’t hold you up much longer. Did you pick up the tub or something?”
The bathroom mirror is no less insensitive when we stand in front of it to shave or apply makeup and it reflects the wrinkles around our eyes.
“Whoa! Please step back away from the canyons for your safety!”
Likely it will notice other facial features.
“You got caterpillars nesting in your eyebrows, or are you just overdue for a trim? Maybe you should go get the hedge clippers from the garage …”
Meanwhile, the medicine cabinet is over in the corner, waiting its turn to chime in with a sarcastic comment.
“I hope I don’t get arrested. You’ve got so many pills in this weekly organizer that I think I could legally be classified as an accessory to drug dealing.”
It should know that they all are prescription medications.
“What’s that big beige one for in the Friday slot. You treating horses, too?”
The bottom drawer of the vanity is just downright vicious in its observations of us.
“You know that sound you hear when you bend down to open me up? Half creaking and half moaning? That isn’t me …”
The drawer offers to help, but it doesn’t sound as though it’s really being sincere.
“I see I’m still storing that elastic exercise strap you bought from one of those infomercials a few years ago. You might want to take that out, and I’ll use the space to store one of those fold-up canes.”
The conversation goes on that way for a while. The mirror notes that, “Wow, I can barely get that belly into the reflection.” A comb on the counter looks at the hairline worriedly and asks, “I’m being phased out, aren’t I?” Then the electric hair dryer stuck in the bottom of a cabinet overhears and adds, “I’ve been retired for years. The last time I had any work was drying the dog after a bath.”
A towel hanging just outside the shower doesn’t help much when it comes to its owner’s defense.
“Be quiet, guys. Face it, he doesn’t need you anymore. He dries his scalp and combs his hair with me.”
Morning bathroom time is never good for mental health.