Old People Prefer Bidets
We’ve made it to the golden age of pooping.
I bought a bidet today, and it’s partly because I’m old. It’s mostly because bidet lovers are as passionate as cosplay LARPers learning how to build weapons out of rigid foam.
The latest outpouring of joy over owning and using a bidet came from the Sergeant at work. He loves the bidet so much that he installed one at the station, in the garage bay where the officers have a tiny bathroom.
It might smell like old tires and grease in a phone-booth-sized bathroom, but it’s now the best toilet seat in any police station this side of the Mississippi.
Or so says he, in his passionate intensity. No word on whether a roll of TP is still in there, clinging to the wall like a tired Christmas ornament.
I might not have ever ordered the bidet, but everyone who has one gushes like new parents or those who’ve taken Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior.
Their faces light up and you wonder why. I mean, how great can this toilet accessory be?
They talk about the before period when they were childless, godless, TP addicts.
And now — Jesus freak breeders sporting a squeaky clean asshole day and night.
You secretly wonder, have I been missing out — and also, is my ass as clean as I think it is?
Why Do We Fear Shit?
When the toilet training begins we are blank slates who know nothing of the eternal battle between TP and water.
We are small and weak, so when commanded to drop trou, do the biz, and wipe, we comply.
Coordination being what it is, we learn the intricacies of shit containment one step at a time.
First, we have to learn that when the urge comes — run to the toilet! Don’t just do the easy, lazy thing and let the diaper catch that turd!
Next, comes the real test, learning to wield TP like a pro. Sure, it seems easy now but consider the possibilities for error. Too much TP, or too flat, or too balled-up and too dense.
The roller could spin too fast, or get bogged down, causing panic.
What about getting distracted by wanting to blow your nose?
Last, we must master flushing EVERY SINGLE TIME because, kid, nobody else wants to see your shit, even your family members who love you.
Do European babies need wiping lessons? If they have pure water spraying their assholes clean, why would they?
But American babies must master butt-wiping. This usually happens between the ages of two and four. It must be a freeing moment for every parent which is why I, childfree, must ask:
Why not teach them to use a damn bidet?
How the Hell Does Anyone Learn Anything, Anyway?
Thinking about toilet training made me extremely grateful I chose Childfree from the Life Menu. I don’t like doing tedious things, especially when there is no way around it.
I wonder how many parents buy a bidet just to avoid teaching a kid how to wipe their own ass?
Touching a button or turning a handle is easier to accomplish and no investigation of used toilet paper is necessary.
Zero chance of poo on hands.
This brings me to our fear and shame at shit.
At age two, I was chastised for shit on my thumb and I got my mouth washed out with soap. Probably back talk, because if you want soap in your mouth, mouthing off is a surefire bet.
Apparently, my teacher — our nanny, Molly — felt it was necessary to drive home the lesson: never get shit on your hand, kid.
It was 55 years ago, but I sensed fear, disgust, and outrage on her part.
Old People Are Less Agile
As we age, we go through a stiffening process known as fossilization. We attempt to slow the progress with ibuprofen, complaints, and yin yoga.
We also hop, walk, or “swim” in swimming pools, often chatting with other Olds while hopping or walking. If we swim, it’s so painfully slow it causes children to furrow their brows, tugging on their parent’s terry cloth robes, querying:
“Why is that old lady swimming so SLOW?”
If someone tossed a pebble into the other side of the pool, the ripple effect would send us backward.
The little tykes feel sorry for us, as they should. They are watching the calcification and fossilization happen in real time.
This general lack of pep and agility is only partly remedied with painkillers, chair yoga, kvetching, and fake swimming. Even with all that therapy, we are more like rock than plastic.
This leads to an inevitable crisis on the toilet. Since we are usually fatter than ever before, and fossilizing, reaching backward is a production.
Butthole Logic
We lose butt-wiping skills as we age, yet we take more expensive overseas vacations where we learn about castles and croissants and the best European invention ever, spigots that shoot water at your butthole.
Europe has a way of opening minds because life is better there. It’s not as good as The Shire or Hogwarts, but England, France, and Germany are clearly superior. Also, Ireland and Italy.
And Greece.
What I’m saying is if countries were dogs, most of Europe would be a golden retriever and America would be a pit pit bullbull/wiener dog mix — colloquially known as a Bullweiner.
You get the picture. Floating down the Danube, everything is brighter and glitter rains down on your head and you become open, like in Brigadoon, to a hidden world.
You do things you would never try at home, particularly when you are forced to because there is no toilet paper.
You look around for that friendly roll of Charmin and no dice. Your pants are at your ankles and it’s time to join your friends at the buffet.
You can’t scream for help, nor do you want to, so you do what Americans rarely dare.
You read the instructions and turn the handle.
Once the spritzing of the ass commences, a ray of light shines down into your heart.
“Well, I guess I’ll become Socialist now.”
Final Dump
Someday, we’ll take our very last shit, probably into a diaper. This thought made me realize how a bidet might help us to keep our precious dignity as we fossilize.
As long as you can drag yourself to the bathroom, you are doing fine.
It’s when those diapers come out you should know it’s all over. You no longer have to take care of yourself. You no longer have to go to the pool — nor are you allowed to on account of the very real possibility of, well, an incident.
You never again have to buy anything, including TP.
So in the end, the bidet is a carpe diem opportunity to enjoy these sunset years while staying trendy. As an added bonus, you can rave about the bidet to Youngs because they all bought one during Covid.
Buy that bidet now and fall in love with shitting all over again and tell all your friends at the pool, before you are back in diapers and totally alone.
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Jean Campbell is based in Hot Springs, Arkansas. She has been writing on Medium for years and has recently published her first novel, Down and Out on the Road South, with Wings ePress.