I’m not going to say you can stay in shape in your advancing years by hovering over a bad toilet, but I’m not going to not say it, either.

That occurred to me on a recent trip to a lovely hike with a portable biffy at the trailhead. The Poop Truck pulled up just as I was going to use the toilet, and I thought I’d have to wait, but the guy in the truck was in no hurry—why would he be?—and waved me in. I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t figure out it might be nice to wait until he was done. Instead, I occupied the facility at the very most advanced stage of its hygiene journey. It’s not great when you can feel the heat off the accumulated effluent. No toilet paper either. Well, I’m an old hand at this.

It involves both lowering and raising pants. Drop the drawers, raise the hems so that they do not touch the (gack) (gack) floor. And then hover.

That’s one of my better things. In fact, the only way in which my body is above average is my quadriceps. I can hover for a darn long time. And that, as it turns out, is what is required when you’re an old lady. (“Advancing years,” my fanny. They’re thundering over a cliff.)

I mean, I know old men have it worse. I hear they are not only getting out of bed five times a night (spare me, I’d rather wear rubber pants) but then they’re having weak flow, or just standing there feeling like something should be happening and they really wish it would but it isn’t. Do I have that right?

But things are different for me too. Fortunately I’m sitting. And draining. First, you pee. You don’t snap it off, but the flow stops anyway. You learn to wait. Sure enough, after a bit it starts up again. And repeat. Eventually your containment system appears to have emptied and you can go about your (other) business, hoping the act of standing up does not provoke further unscheduled draining. It takes time, but I usually have nothing better to do.

But this is new. Damn, pee used to just shoot out of there. If you brought pressure to bear, you could knock out unauthorized critters in a pit toilet before they even had a chance to drown. If you’re in a long line at a concert and people are waiting, you can expedite things, is what I’m saying.

Now, no shooting. Just draining. Kegels don’t help. I realized that the problem was not the sphincters. What I think is happening is that the same relaxed attitude that my skin has acquired—my skin is no longer intimately attached to my body, but puddles up in the general vicinity of its previous haunts—must also apply to my inner tissues. I suspect that the tension and snap that my bladder material used to have was responsible for exuberant peeing. Now, it’s just an old bag, much like its proprietor.

And so, to bring us back to the beginning, when I hover over the dreadful toilet of perdition, I am holding a sitting position in midair for quite a long time. Quite a long time. And I’m up to it. Don’t cross me. I’m an old lady with quads of steel.

Between that, and the extra miles I get walking in and out of rooms trying to remember why I’m there, I’m going to be a contender. Don’t doubt me, or my sisters in dotage, Peanut. Our other superpower is we don’t really care what you think.