There’s little doubt that when you close the door in preparation to poo poo you’ve placed yourself in a refuge sheltered from the hectic outside world.
Really… when else do you feel as secure? It’s like being back in the mother’s womb, except with more self-awareness.
Do you dim the lights as I do?
Perhaps you heat essential oils to enhance the ambience, further.
Regardless of how you spend these precious moments tucked away from the hustle and bustle of your busy life, one question remains: What kind of toilet paper do you use?
Do you use Scott’s because it’s cheap, and the roll seems like it could wind around the globe multiple times?
Perhaps you use Charmin because you love the idea that an adorable talking teddy has spent the afternoon cuddling with your toilet paper at the park prior to your using it.
Or, like others, you prefer Angel Soft because the idea that a little baby only minutes ago turned your TP into a robe is downright charming.
Regardless of the brand you use, the most luxurious toilet paper doesn’t come from trees.
Whenever I run out of toilet paper, I do what you do, with my shorts around my ankles I hobble to the kitchen, tear off a paper towel, and return to the John with a grin knowing I’ve just cheated fate.
But last Saturday, not only was I out of toilet paper, but paper towels too.
I was so SOL.
I sat there on the toilet in deep thought like a scientist contemplating a metaphysical conundrum, wondering how I could resolve this dilemma without ruining a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, and then it struck me:
My roommate has a loaf of wonder bread and has gleefully ignored my incessant pleas that it’s absolutely unhealthy and not befitting the name bread.
There’s got to be a better use for that stuff than eating it, you know?
I wondered if a couple slices of wonder bread could wipe away my remnants, effectively wiping away my dilemma.
Consider… when you’re making a P&J sandwich, peanut butter spreads beautifully onto white fluff. If Wonder Bread can take peanut butter with ease, surely it could handle some feces spread.
I hobbled to the kitchen, grabbed the wonder bread package from the pantry knowing I was doing my roomie a huge favor, hobbled back, opened it up, took a slice out, and gracefully wiped my behind as if this action was being scored by a panel of judges for style (I was super graceful).
After the wipe concluded I took a careful look at the bread and a howl of elation erupted from me realizing how well it worked. My howl was like the screams of jubilation from mission control when Apollo 13 successfully landed. Not only did I discover a new use for bread, but this was the softest “toilet paper” I’ve ever experienced. It absorbed the remnants beautifully, and easily solved my uncomfortable dilemma. If Brazil is so brazen to use sugar cane to fuel cars, then I’ll sure as hell take the liberty to use bread for TP.
Can I get an amen?
If you ever get a chance to visit me for tea and nature calls, you’ll notice that instead of toilet paper hanging on the wall, I got a bundle of wonder bread packages beside my toilet.
Edible toilet paper never felt so good.
p.s. – you’re always welcome to have tea with me