I feel like the older I get, the clumsier I become. So these days I’m forced to choose comfort over fashion: flats instead of heels. I spent the majority of my 20s in stilettos, and as beautiful as they are, they’re not very efficient for me to travel quickly from point A to point B. They also hurt like hell after an hour of wear. I travel a lot and I’m always late, so it’s easier to make a run for my gate in flats. I was feeling young and spry yesterday, so I donned on my 3 inch heeled boots to the airport. They were chunky heels so if I needed to run, it wouldn’t be a problem. As with every flight, I use the bathroom before I get on the plane so I can avoid using the tiny plane commodes. There was a long line, so I couldn’t be choosy about my stall. The first available one was the one I had to use. I went in and immediately noticed the present the previous lady left for me. I guess she didn’t know her butthole was supposed to go over the bowl and not on the seat because the inside edge was smeared in poop. I wanted to vomit, but my bladder was telling me I needed to pee first. I pulled out several seat protectors to cover the poo painting, dropped my pants, hovered over the seat, and prayed that I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall on top of the mud pie. As I was hovering, I noticed that my thighs weren’t getting tired. I felt pretty confident that I wasn’t going to tip over. Wearing heels helped stabilize my legs and held my thighs steady and parallel to the toilet. I finished peeing and wiped without my legs quivering. It was so magical that I could have started twerking over the toilet, but then I quickly remembered stranger danger poop smears, pulled up my pants and got the hell out of that stall. I’m sure the next lady thought I left the treadmarks for her. Hope she was wearing heels.