Charmin Lessons
Wednesday, January 30, 2008 Filed in: Events
Who teaches us how to go to the bathroom? Usually,
our parents. Where did they learn?
From one end to the other, literally, our parents taught us certain bathroom basics. The bath itself. Brushing teeth.
Included in the hygiene regimen when we're children is what to do with ourselves when we tinkle or trickle, respectively. And, to wipe when it's not tinkle or trickle.
While aiming for the toilet is a bit more difficult for little boys than little girls, the process is exactly the same when both sit down for a well deserved episode of number two.
Then comes the wiping, the hand to bottom moderately cleaning effort for both little boys and girls. Who teaches that? Again, usually it's the parents.
The problem here is that there isn't much teaching going on, and, at least in earlier years, probably not much cleaning going on, either.
Sit down, wait until it's gone, wipe up what's left. What's so difficult about that? Billions of humans for thousands of years have done pretty much the same thing the same way.
Enter Charmin. It's squeezably soft and one of the first bathroom hygiene lessons learned right after brushing teeth and washing with soap. But with Charmin there's room for technique. Or not.
What technique?
The world can be divided into various groups and sub-groups. Such as, folders or wadders. Do you fold your Charmin, or wad your Charmin?
Not even depending on which group you belong, where did you learn the technique? As you grew up did you change the technique? Did you switch from one to the other?
Wiping with Charmin (or your two-ply or three-ply equivalent-- no one uses single ply anymore) is one of the earliest instructions that stays with us our entire life. You would think there would be more instructions on the subject of How To Use Charmin.
I'm not really a wadder, but I'm not a neat and pristine folder, either. I pull out about 18 inches of Charmin, then let it cascade into soft folds until it reaches what I consider the appropriate size.
At that point, I take position beside my wadder brethren (or, sisters, as the case may be) and scrunch the folds in the middle, specifically on the side opposite where the actual wiping takes place. That part wads and that's the part I hold on to. The rest stays in something that resembles a messy fold.
See? I'm certain no one has ever explained in that much detail what should be a simple, nearly innate process that all of us go through, regularly, but with such straightforward language and in such dignity. And clarity.
Or not.
Our parents, or some other adult with supervision over our childhood, taught us bathroom hygiene. I'm certain there was no mention of folding, or wadding, or how many times it's necessary to repeat either technique.
Why not?
We need a license to drive a car. We need a license to get married. Instructions and advice are available for each, respectively. Where's the instruction for wiping? What's the best technique? Is there an independent study which rates various grades of toilet paper?
I know for a fact that I did not pass along such beneficially instructive lessons to my children. Why? Because no one passed it along to me. I had to learn it on the streets.
Oh, the shame.
From one end to the other, literally, our parents taught us certain bathroom basics. The bath itself. Brushing teeth.
Included in the hygiene regimen when we're children is what to do with ourselves when we tinkle or trickle, respectively. And, to wipe when it's not tinkle or trickle.
While aiming for the toilet is a bit more difficult for little boys than little girls, the process is exactly the same when both sit down for a well deserved episode of number two.
Then comes the wiping, the hand to bottom moderately cleaning effort for both little boys and girls. Who teaches that? Again, usually it's the parents.
The problem here is that there isn't much teaching going on, and, at least in earlier years, probably not much cleaning going on, either.
Sit down, wait until it's gone, wipe up what's left. What's so difficult about that? Billions of humans for thousands of years have done pretty much the same thing the same way.
Enter Charmin. It's squeezably soft and one of the first bathroom hygiene lessons learned right after brushing teeth and washing with soap. But with Charmin there's room for technique. Or not.
What technique?
The world can be divided into various groups and sub-groups. Such as, folders or wadders. Do you fold your Charmin, or wad your Charmin?
Not even depending on which group you belong, where did you learn the technique? As you grew up did you change the technique? Did you switch from one to the other?
Wiping with Charmin (or your two-ply or three-ply equivalent-- no one uses single ply anymore) is one of the earliest instructions that stays with us our entire life. You would think there would be more instructions on the subject of How To Use Charmin.
I'm not really a wadder, but I'm not a neat and pristine folder, either. I pull out about 18 inches of Charmin, then let it cascade into soft folds until it reaches what I consider the appropriate size.
At that point, I take position beside my wadder brethren (or, sisters, as the case may be) and scrunch the folds in the middle, specifically on the side opposite where the actual wiping takes place. That part wads and that's the part I hold on to. The rest stays in something that resembles a messy fold.
See? I'm certain no one has ever explained in that much detail what should be a simple, nearly innate process that all of us go through, regularly, but with such straightforward language and in such dignity. And clarity.
Or not.
Our parents, or some other adult with supervision over our childhood, taught us bathroom hygiene. I'm certain there was no mention of folding, or wadding, or how many times it's necessary to repeat either technique.
Why not?
We need a license to drive a car. We need a license to get married. Instructions and advice are available for each, respectively. Where's the instruction for wiping? What's the best technique? Is there an independent study which rates various grades of toilet paper?
I know for a fact that I did not pass along such beneficially instructive lessons to my children. Why? Because no one passed it along to me. I had to learn it on the streets.
Oh, the shame.
