Bathroom Doors Closing

I grew up in a family of females.  Six to be exact with one brother and a dad.  Before we moved to Fruit Heights, six of us children shared one tiny bathroom.  The door of the bathroom was almost never closed.  Every morning my sisters ratted their Cindi Lauper hair with purple and pink picks.  They combed the hair out from their temples, blasted it with Aquanet, blow-dried the stickiness, and transformed themselves into huge-headed birds with hairy wings.  In between all of this my brother stumbled in, did his hair, and even dabbed a little bit of my sister's makeup on his reddened zits when they weren't looking.  Somewhere in this teenage mix of vanity, one of the older sisters did mine and Lindsay's hair while we sat our OshKosh B'Gosh bums down on the white porcelain.  
 
At any rate, bathrooms were a busy place growing up.  If one of us had to pee, we didn't wait to usher the whole big-haired gang out of the premises.  We simply embraced the publicity of the loo.

And so when I got married, this openness in the bathroom followed me down the isle.  Blair and I don't really close doors.  In fact, if I inadvertently close the door while I'm going to the bathroom, like clockwork Blair peaks in the door and looks at me wondering if something is wrong.  As I said, we've apparently established ourselves as an open door family.

But four years into marriage, I'm feeling a little shy about my doors.

I want them shut.

I want to go to the bathroom by myself.

I don't want to plug my nose while I do my makeup.

Any advice?  Are you and your husband open or closed door bathroomers?