Booty Baptized

Caution: What you are about to read could forever change your hygiene standards, destroy your loyalty to toilet paper, and spark an urgent craving for a plumbing upgrade.

Most Americans I know, are downright obsessed with sanitization. We wash our fruit like it’s radioactive, scrub our hands like we’re prepping for surgery, and heaven forbid you’re caught without a bottle of hand sanitizer tucked into your purse. Public restrooms? Hazmat zones. Handrails and doorknobs? Biohazards. Chlorox wipes? Absolute besties.

So, here’s the big question: why is wiping our booty with dry toilet paper still socially acceptable?

Years ago, I came home to find the toilet seat had been replaced. But this wasn’t just any new seat – it came with a 12-inch command center loaded with more buttons than our TV remote. Naturally, I turned to my husband to ask what this high-tech wonder was. He chuckled and said, “It’s a bidet,” with a look so proud you’d thought he engineered it himself.

I had a pretty good idea what a bidet was, but I was only half right. What followed was an eye-opening education, complete with enthusiastic encouragement to personally take the plunge.

Nope, I just couldn’t get myself to try it. That bidet sat untouched by me for months, partly because I don’t like being told what to do, and partly because, well…it scared me. But after hearing my husband emerge from the bathroom day after day, grinning like he’d just won the lottery, and proudly declaring, “I have the cleanest ass in Mason City,” did I decide it was time to give it a try.

The time had come. I had to put my fears aside and embrace the unknown. Unfortunately, my first bidet encounter proved one thing: I hadn’t exactly aced orientation. Somewhere between all the buttons and blinking lights, I completely missed the part about multiple water streams. As luck would have it, I hit the wrong one and suddenly, a jet of ice-cold water shot straight toward the front of my anatomy with such force, it felt less like a gentle rinse and more like someone launched a frozen catheter directly into my urethra. Let me tell you: there was absolutely nothing pleasant about that.

When I told Tan I’d finally tried it, he was more excited than a kid in a candy store. Until I told him my experience wasn’t exactly euphoric. Cue the laughter. Cue the second training session.

This time I had my listening ears on. I learned about temperature control, directional spray, and the magic button. Turns out, there’s an actual button that sweeps the water stream back and forth, covering both ends in one graceful rinse. Now that’s what I call innovation.

We’re now proud owners of multiple bidets: two in the house, one at the cabin, and one in the mancave. I swear some of our friends hold out on their BM’s until they’re at our place, just to experience the rinse.

I used to think bidets were reserved for the wealthy. Turns out, that’s a total myth. In fact, many poorer countries consider bidets a standard household fixture. They’ve been around for centuries. On a trip to Malaysia, I noticed a hose with a sprayer attachment hanging from the toilet. I found myself glancing around the bathroom, trying to figure out what needed watering. Turns out, they were one step ahead of us in the hygiene game.

Fun fact: “Bidet” is French for “pony” because you straddle it like you’re riding one. Originally it was used for feminine hygiene and even as contraception (though proven ineffective). Bidets later became symbols of cleanliness and comfort.

When guests use our bathroom, we give them a second or two, knowing they will reappear asking if it flushes like a normal toilet. The buttons confuse them. Yes, it flushes like a normal toilet, but why settle for standard when you’ve got the magic trick waiting? Skipping the bidet would be like leaving a concert before the encore – it’s where the real show begins

I’ve got to share an eye-opening experience I had with the upstairs bidet. One day I thought it wasn’t working, so I stood up mid-sit to inspect the little nozzle between my legs (head out of the gutter – the bidet nozzle). What I didn’t realize was that the hose kinks under your weight – you have to shift slightly to release the pressure. But I hadn’t learned that yet. So, there I was, leaning in, investigating, when whoosh – wrong move. I caught a face full of cold water, straight from the nozzle. Honestly, I just sat there laughing, stunned, with water dripping from my glasses. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect…or less perfect, depending on one’s intentions.

The bidet is most definitely a conversation piece. Several of our friends have confided that they’re now proud owners of one and say now that they’ve used one, they’d never go back to dry toilet paper.

So, grab your favorite cocktail and raise your glass high – this may not be Shakespearean worthy – just my version of splashy bathroom poetry:

To buttons we press with

Fingers unsure,

To streams that clean and leave

Us pure.

To seats that warm and hoses

That dance,

To guests who take a

Cautious stance.

So, raise your glass with

Cheeky delight,

May your rinse be gentle, your aim be

Just right.

And if you’re at the Tan house, please do

Take note –

That red towel on the little chair?

Not for your face or your throat.

BOTTOMS UP! CHEERS!