As we all know, I have quite the potty mouth. There have been times in my life where I have worked hard, and effectively, at hiding this peccadillo from others, but it remains a fact about me. I have a potty mouth. So, it probably comes as little surprise to my friends that I’ve titled this post “Toilet Talk.” Except, this is actually about a different type of potty.
Like in the actual commode versus in how many different parts of speech can the eff-bomb be correctly used.
It all started innocently enough. I was scrolling through my Twitter tweet-stream when I came upon a tweet by CJ Redwine. (Yes, that awesome YA writer, CJ Redwine.) Anyhoo, like any amazing writer, she posted about the normal stuff of a writer’s life. Or, in this case, about finding a bidet in her hotel room. In fact, here’s the video that she and another writer, MG Buehrlen, posted.
I watched that and after I readjusted my eyebrows to a more normal placement on my face, I full-on belly laughed. For a long time.
Perhaps it’s due to the stress going down in my life these days, but ladies, thank you for that well-needed laugh.
And really, who wouldn’t laugh over that? Because it is pretty funny to watch the bidet-attachment of a standard US toilet work. And CJ is correct, it does look like a penis. Or a turtle head, which is no less funny, mind you.
Or maybe just the whole notion of washing one’s butt is funny to my way of thinking. (And if so, perhaps I’m not as mature as my wrinkles and gravity-impaired self would lead folks to assume.)
Okay, bidets. I actually looked these things up and Wikipedia does a charming job of explaining the bidet, its history, and its varied social acceptance throughout the world. But it didn’t answer the questions I have about bidets. And let me tell you, I’ve had these questions since 1989 when I met my first bidet in France.
What is the etiquette for proper bidet use? Do bidet-using-mothers and fathers have bidet lessons with their children and can you tell about a person’s upbringing based on how s/he uses a bidet, in much the same way as the folders versus scrunchers are obviously reflective of their toilet paper instructor’s biases.
For example, if you face the room or the wall based on what part of the “area” you feel needs some attention, is there a preferred mounting/dismounting technique? It seems that a bidet could require 2 footstools for some folks and how does one delicately ask for that if one is visiting a bidet-friendly home? How much clothing is required to remove prior to bidet use and where does one put all that stuff if floor germs are a concern? When utilizing a bidet, is it a soap-and-washcloth sort of thing or just a hose-down-and-hope thing? And I’d have to say, some of those new-fangled options listed by bidet manufactures such as Biffy make me wonder just how the water pressure is calibrated to one’s personal preferences. One surely doesn’t want the initial bidet use to be an event after all but who wants to get to know your plumber that well, I ask.
These are the sorts of things I ponder when considering if I’d ever be the sort of person to invest in a bidet. I am a fan of spic and span private parts, but I’d hate to do these sorts of things incorrectly. And let’s face it, adding an appliance to my life increases the chances that I’d get injured or my clothing soaked by odds any bookie would love.
But if I were to invest in a bidet, I might be tempted to add some decorations to it, depending on what style of bidet I purchased. I’d consider it a way to add some levity to my day. “Hello Mister Turtle, good to see you this morning.”