The bidet - By Jorge Sosa
It is an artifact of massive use but no one has dedicated a miserable literary essay. I'm going to redeem him.
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I want to do, in this solemn moment, a tribute, according to my highly deserved criterion, to a device of massive and frequent use that never of the jamases, still never forever, has deserved a novel of some outstanding writer, not even a miserable literary essay that highlights its virtues: the bidet. Oh, noble gadget where daily we put our buttocks fleetingly! How little men have said about you! I'm going to redeem you.
Not in all countries the bidet is used, in some a chirurgical attachment is used attached to the toilet that acts as a. But as an apparatus it exists in very few countries. It is also used in some European countries (few) and in Japan, which gets to install this type of artifacts in public bathrooms. In other countries they do not know how to use it and many put it on the roof because they think that as it has a jet it should work as a shower.
Some time ago I wrote a poetry that in one of its parts said:
The bidet leaves you anus ... swum,
Because you know that inside a criminal
Stay in ambush
Every day it happens to you that he assaults you
That jet from the snowy artifact.
If we had to compare it with an animal we would do it with the whale, which usually emit aerial jets from its back. However, the bidet is related to the horse. The word bidet comes from the French and means "caballito", in allusion to the posture that is used to use it. We assemble it, daily.
It is a kind of modest fountain, a low basin-type bowl with running water and drainage. Running water comes in clean and comes out ... well, you know. It is manufactured, in its most common ways, with porcelain or earthenware. It has a certain similarity with the toilet, it is your permanent companion, and the bidet is destined to finish the task that one executes in the toilet, because it is delineated to clean the perineal area and the anus, although it can also be used to wash the feet or the face when one arrives at the house with the body overflowing with fernet.
Some refuse to go to a public toilet because they do not have a bidet. They prefer to walk constipated than to submit to the groping of hygienol or an old sheet of newspaper. Or new, according to the rush. They puke until they reach the bathroom of their house.
The most important thing about the bidet is its jet. It has to be a determined jet, with force, well ejected from its holes, not a weak one that does not reach its destination. A bidet with a weak jet is a frustration, one has to fit well inside the device, force its anatomy to go well down in order to achieve its purpose. Nor does the jet have to be so powerful that one ends up stamped on the ceiling.
Usually it is aggressive when the winter, in those cold days that invade us, as it has happened in the last winter, and the jet is frozen. Then it happens as a temperature shock throughout the body and one tends to dodge the bulge or hole, to be more precise.
On the other hand, in the summer, your liquid caress is pleasant and you tend to stay longer, not to clean yourself but to comfort yourself. So much pleasure causes that many people start reading about the bidet while the water takes care of their private parts.
At night, when the bathroom is unoccupied, in the dark, when the medicine cabinet closes its eye because it does not have to reflect, the bidet makes fun of the toilet paper: "You are a clean buttocks of paper. There is nothing softer than water, gilún. "
Someone could say that the bidet is going for the poto, however he has fun with the cards, he is the only artifact in the house who can play dirty ass, the only one to whom one gives his private parts and who submits to that small ascending alluvium of the Mendoza River.
Luckily in the country it is a settled custom. Next to the Argentine toilet, the Argentine bidet, with its huge open mouth, gives us the peace of mind that this domestic fountain will have to point us and will surely hit the target, in reality in the black.
The bidet well deserves a farewell poem:
Ico, ico, white horse
No reins, no message,
Ico, ico, take me riding
Through the white pampa of the tiles
With your watery impulse
Until I feel that my old fret,
Blasting, blasting
Your advice followed
And it is immaculate.