Bowling Alleys & Toilet Paper

Tangled up on the sofa wrestling with the dog two nights ago, television playing in the background, my attention was caught by a commercial wherein a woman in a bowling alley threw her ball for a resounding strike, bringing the product name Cottonelle to the screen as she turned to the camera and said, “I need a clean alley all the time.” My mouth was still gaping in surprise when a quick cut brought up another toilet paper commercial, this one presenting a lovely housewife in pearls and low heels announcing that Charmin is, “another way to keep your underwear clean.” I had to look out the window to make sure I hadn’t drifted out of orbit and landed on planet Mars.

It appears that freedom among advertisers has evolved to include a kind of low-brow tabloid language exemplified by Cottonelle and Charmin in selling their toilet paper. Or am I just behind the times and seeing another case of technology leading us down a road to where nothing is left unsaid or unshared, where social networks have encouraged the sharing of every thought and action and where people say and show anything and everything? Or maybe I’m simply going off on a rant about nothing more than a few graphic details about toilet paper and how we use it. Apparently a great many people are curious about it because the very first website I clicked on stated at the top that the number of questions concerning toilet paper was amazing. Well heck, I’m gonna jump right into the mix.

Long before the luxury of ultra strong and uniquely balanced triple ply, snowy white toilet paper enriched with aloe, people depended on an assortment of devices to handle the problem. We’ve all heard the corncob and Sears catalogue stories but they represent only the tip of the iceberg. Vikings used discarded sheep’s wool, coconut shells were the choice in early Hawaii, lace was popular with French royalty and snow and tundra moss did the trick for the Eskimos of yore. Mussel shells were useful for coastal peoples and one source describes the ancient Greeks using stones and pieces of clay. The Romans had a good idea with sponges on the end of sticks kept in jugs filled with salt water. Probably the worst choice in history was my own. Out in the woods on a camping trip as a kid I grabbed up a handful of leaves that turned out to be poison ivy.

It was the Chinese in about the year 600 who first came up with the idea of making paper especially for use behind closed doors. It must have been intended for people with large bottoms because it was made in sheets measuring 2x3 feet. In the US, “Gayetty’s Medicated Paper” was the marvel of 1857, a paper of pre-moistened sheets of manila hemp medicated with aloe and dispensed from a Kleenex-sized box. The name Joseph Gayetty was printed on every sheet and Mr Gayetty claimed for his toilet paper the bonus of hemorrhoid prevention. The toilet tissue on a roll familiar to modern culture came about around 1880, but since toilet paper was still a sensitive subject, out of embarrassment the Scott Company left their name off of it, deciding instead to customize, or name it for their customers. As a result the Waldorf Hotel gained fame in the toilet paper arena. Scott didn’t take credit for their product until 1902.

Getting people to buy toilet paper was a uphill battle, in large part because Americans were embarrassed by anything pointing to bodily functions. Customers didn’t want to ask for it by name. Germans had a similar embarrassment about the subject and one company came out with advertising copy saying, “Ask for a roll of Hakle and you won’t have to say toilet paper!” Widespread acceptance of the product was slow in coming, but eventually boosted by more and more homes with sit-down flush toilets and indoor plumbing systems. The Hoberg Paper Company hit a bullseye in 1928 with something called Charmin. Once again, the key was advertising. They gave the package a feminine logo depicting a beautiful woman, conveying softness and femininity. This allowed the avoidance of talking about actual purpose and merely asking for a package of Charmin. It wasn’t until decades later that the beautiful ladies on the package were replaced by babies and bear cubs.

Twenty-six billion rolls of toilet paper, worth about 2.4 billion, are sold yearly in the US alone. The average American uses 50 pounds (23 kilograms) per year, fifty percent more than the average of other Western countries. All around the world, in place of toilet tissue, water is still one of the most common methods of cleaning. India, the Middle East and a number of Asian countries continue to rely on a bucket and a spigot.

And Japan? The future does not look too rosy for the now familiar roll of toilet paper. Supermarket and drugstore shelves are piled with the stuff but a growing number of Japanese people have come to depend upon something called the Washlet, and it won't be long before homes equipped with this convenience outnumber those without. Attached to seat and tank, the Washlet works like a bidet, but includes a heat controlled air blower for drying, a heated seat and even a sound device to cover embarrassing sounds. After many years of using a Washlet in Japan, the return to toilet paper was an uncomfortable lesson in my reacquaintance with American life.

Red in the Face

Paruresis: A type of phobia affecting both males and females in which the sufferer is unable to urinate in the presence of others, such as in a public restroom. The analogous condition that affects bowel movement is called parcopresis.

Pretty big words, and in fact they don’t even show up in two dictionaries I consulted, but in the process of looking I did come across some easier, more colloquial terms that include ‘bashful bladder,’ ‘stage fright,’ ‘urophobia’ and ‘pee-shyness.’

Call it whatever you like, most people in Japan describe it as hazukashii, which basically means embarrassing, and the feeling is probably more prevalent among women than men. The thought of being heard using the toilet is embarrassing to many Japanese women, but I would say the same is true of not a few men as well. It’s an interesting condition in some senses, because it arises in situations where identities are almost surely unknown, and because everyone is guilty of the same sounds at one time or another. It isn’t a feeling found only in Japan either. It probably is more common in this society, but I read somewhere that even Ann Landers has gotten letters about this ‘embarrassment.’ My guess is that the number of men who will admit to having similar feelings is higher than you’d think. According to an article recently in The Japan Times, in a survey of 200 male college students, 36 percent admitted to flushing the toilet while ‘doing business,’ and 66 percent said it was because they didn’t want others to hear.

Is this a condition found only in modern societies? Not according to Shigenori Yamaji, a researcher and expert on toilet culture (!) who says that this sensibility can be traced back to the 19th century in Japan. In the homes of some of the wealthy were water urns (otokeshi no tsubo) from which a disguising flow of water produced the same effect as the modern flush. (see photo)

Since the 1980s a device called the Otohime (sound princess) has been common in many Japanese public buildings. For many years, to cover the sound of bodily functions many women flushed toilets two or three times while using them, wasting a large amount of water. Education campaigns failed to stop this practice, so the Otohime was introduced. The device produces the sound of flushing water, alleviating the need for actual flushing and saving as much as twenty liters of water each ‘flush.’ On a smaller scale, among fart machines and other toilet games, the iPhone App Store also offers programs that produce a flushing sound, making your cell phone a sort of portable Otohime. You have to wonder though if the volume on its speaker is enough to give adequate disguise to unwanted sounds.

To my way of thinking, the Otohime is small potatoes, and only one enhancement of the Japanese toilet. Each time I return to the US, or travel elsewhere, I sorely miss the comforts of a Japanese toilet. It is an ongoing mystery to me why other countries have not adopted the innovations of Japanese toilet hardware. Toto uses the phrase ‘The evolution of clean’ as bywords for it’s Washlet toilet, and in my experience nothing could be more apt. These toilets are operated by a keypad on the wall or on the arm of the toilet seat top. The seat is heated, and when you’re done, it sprays, it dries, and some models even play music. One of these days I plan to install one of these in my Florida home.

As for embarrassing sounds, I myself am not altogether immune, and when the occasion arises, a covering ‘flush’ is always comforting. Might not the same be true for many of us?