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" It was either Eva Braun or Eva Gabor who said, &amp;quot;A woman&amp;#039;s place is in the bathroom.&amp;quot; While that&amp;#039;s undoubtedly true, few men know what really happens in there for so very long. There is a bathing ritual, of course, with its zestful soaping of places. Hair is removed from rugged and often unpredictable terrain, jagged escarpments are hewn, and we undergo a full inspection: points and plugs, check the rotors, and replace the distributor cap if it shows wear. Our hair is hotly blown, lacquered, burned, and thoroughly spit-smoothed into place. Then begins a series of costly, specialized protective sealants, which are applied from head to toe and, if you&amp;#039;re anything like me, buffed to a high shine by attendants. But beyond simple mechanics, what we&amp;#039;re &amp;quot;really doing in there&amp;quot; is art. Yes, art. To apply makeup is to commit an artistic act on oneself, in both the technical sense and the &amp;quot;art&amp;quot; sense: painting lips that bring to mind Homer&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;wine-dark sea&amp;quot; or perhaps the bewitching eyes of a movie star or famous blogger, and all under the continuous scrutiny of one or more nearby mirrors, often at crude angles and high magnifications. But sometimes, just like everyone in the bathroom, women like to take a little time for themselves to dream or, let&amp;#039;s say, indulge in immortal longings, cower in vague doubt and shame, linger in suspended thought (noses: why noses?), try out flattering poses, stare off into space, gather our rosebuds while we may, sing like no one&amp;#039;s watching, and squeeze blackheads like no one&amp;#039;s listening, or however the song goes. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/lifestyle/sex/a5594/girls-in-bathroom-0309/>