Think Pink

So I was recently at an outdoor event.  And was faced with an interesting proposition.  You see once I came to the conclusion I was trans there were certain things I changed for myself, permanently.  Stuff that if I can avoid it I never ever want to do again.  

Wearing guy underwear fits that category.  And I have not since around labor day last year.  Why?  Well, I am a girl, I should wear the right kind of panties.  And I do, so there.

But one of the others was peeing the right way.  You know, seated.  And so I made that rule for myself.  Of course when enfemme it is no problem.  But if you are in drab, you can get some looks now and then, but hey, every guy poops too, don't they?

Now as a person that frequents both the ladies and the men's room, depending on if I have my makeup on or not, I can say with relative certainty, the ladies room is usually an order of magnitude better than the men's room.  And if you are person that sits to pee, that is a big factor.

And so here I am at this outdoor event.  And placed every so many hundred feet are a pair of those gems you see in the photo, right next to a blue pair of similar construction.  Now I had never seen "sexed" port-a-potties before.  And mind you, they only have a color as an indicator, there are no signs, saying, women only or something.  In fact I waited a moment pondering and low and behold a woman came out of a blue one.  Well at that note I moved ahead with my experiment.

First a blue one, well that was a mistake.  Even though there is a urinal separate from the seat, for some reason there is a need to have hosed down the entirety of the interior of the blue plastic abode.  And for good measure, somebody has left shit on the seat.  Like they could not aim or something.  Ick.  I am disgusted.  I contemplate cleaning it.  At least there is a hand sanitizer dispenser in the space.  Alas it is empty.  I give up.  I walk out, and stick my head in the second of the two little boy blue boxes.  I am greeted with the same, except this time toilet paper has been added as a urine soaked garnish, about the floor, on the seat, around the seat.  I do not know if it is a failed attempt to clean it or was meant as a masculine art project.   I head for the exit.

So now, I think to myself, if I use the pink one, will I go to jail?  Will other women drag me from it in disgust as one of the lower life forms befouling their sacred ground.  Or, will I not be bothered at all.  Perhaps rumours of their cleanliness are just that, rumours.   I enter the pink ensconcement.  

To my delight, the seat is down, and so is the lid!  Odd, there is actually a urinal in there, totally unused.  A good sign.  I lift the cover, the seat is pristine.  No I would not eat off of it, but I am sure it has been wiped down by the last patron, with, wait for it, a working hand sanitizer dispenser, yay!.   I proceed to clean it again for good measure.  I do my business.  Examine my result, low and behold, not a drop anyplace other than where it should be.  I pull my panties up (yes you did not think otherwise did you?) and sort out my clothes, and to my amazement, a mirror on the back of the door!  Had I been enfemme I could have checked my makeup even.  Outstanding!

I am befuddled by what genetic male defect prevents them from doing the same in the blue turdshack.  Is it learned, or are they born with it?  Now that I have decided I have a choice, I am thinking this is indeed an advantage over the men's room, even if I will have to stand in line to use it, it is probably worth it.

I exited to find several guys waiting for the blue ones.  I nod and carry on.  They make no move to the pink, good, I want to keep it for us girls if I can.  So on that front, when in doubt go pink.