Hear Me Out – You Need a Bidet


Some truths are hard to accept. My face requires moisturizer. Onions aren’t the devil I grew up thinking they were. The new Jeep trucks are hideous. Maybe Target was actually just participating in a brilliant marketing campaign with those dresses, and we all fell for it.

Sometimes, you just see something and want to scream “NO!” to everyone who somehow thinks it’s a good idea. But one such idea that’s lived in the back of my mind for years has recently taken flight, as well as a one-way ticket straight to my heart. You need a bidet attachment for your toilet. 

Please don’t leave. Just hear me out.

This is another truth that might be hard to accept. Your butthole could use a good power washing. I didn’t think it was true, either, but I. AM. AMAZED.

No, don’t leave. I swear. Just stay a little longer.

My plan was genius. I bought a bidet attachment as a white elephant Christmas gift nearly three months ago, knowing full-well that my *rubs hands together* secret plan would work. That thing would be going home with me at the end of the night.

Was I slightly embarrassed that I’d secretly wanted to try one for years, but was too scared to buy it myself? A little. Did it seem BRILLIANT to buy it as a funny, but useful, gift that I may or may not end up getting “stuck” with? I’d like to thank the Academy for recognizing the performance of my life.

On Christmas Day, I came home with the best gift ever – the one I bought myself. (Isn’t that always how it works?) Our new Tushy bidet attachment was easy to install and operate, and I couldn’t wait to give it a shot…literally.

Of course, there are several brands available, but after reading more personal reviews of tittilating toilet sessions than I’d care to admit, I landed on the Tushy. I won’t lie – my husband was…hesitant. After about 10 minutes lying on the bathroom floor with various tools and the instructions, I installed it myself and it worked.

Pro tip: Don’t turn it on just to check the water pressure when you’re done installing it, or you’ll end up with a face full of water from the WAY wrong fountain.

I squealed with delight to my husband, who had been sitting in the living room waiting for me to ask for help, and announced my intention to sacrifice my dignity in the name of experimentation. I locked the door to ensure privacy in this most vulnerable of moments and apprehensively took my place on our everything-old-is-new-again throne.

To be honest, the anxiety at this moment rivaled the feeling you get right before a roller coaster plunges over the first big drop. I turned the knob to “bum wash” and was immediately violated by a freezing cold blast of water that, frankly, surprised me with its brute force. The scream was 100% involuntary, and I may have momentarily blacked out. Upon regaining focus in my eyeballs, I flipped the knob back to “off” and attempted to navigate the deluge of feelings that washed over me (and under me, TBH). 

Did I love it? No.

Did I hate it? Also, no. 

Sounds like a lot of first dates. Minus the missing pants, of course

I flipped the knob back to “bum wash” and sat there, unable to decide if I was thrilled with this new-found gadget or appalled with myself for being thrilled with this new-found gadget. I landed somewhere in between the two. Now, nearly three months in, I wish we’d bought one years ago. Even my husband loves it. Toilet paper has been downgraded from Step 1 to Step 2, and we’re using less of it. 

Self-care is something we’ve all been touting for the last twelve grueling, impossible, nerve-wracking months. All the gurus say you should buy yourself a gift every now and then. I’m no guru, but here’s my suggestion: make one of them a power washer for your exit door. 

Pro tip: Order from the Tushy store on Amazon, using the link I provided above, or just search for it on Amazon. Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT attempt to go to what you assume would be the obvious website of said company, especially not on a computer you don’t own. It may or may not result in a phone call and/or email from IT regarding restricted sites and an awkward conversation with your boss. I cannot speak to this personally, of course, obviously. Definitely didn’t happen to me while writing this and trying to find the website. DEFINITELY DID NOT. 

Just go order one. Thank me later. 

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Kelli Bruemmer
Kelli is a native Okie with a larger-than-life personality and an unhealthy dose of sarcasm. She married Bobby in 2011, and they welcomed daughter, Maevyn, in 2013. Maevyn is autistic, and every day is a new adventure in discovering how her unique mind works. Life on their NE Oklahoma City acreage is never dull, and they enjoy RV camping and Sooner football. Kelli is a former law enforcement officer who now works full-time at the Oklahoma Highway Safety Office facilitating programs that keep people safe on our roadways. She also enjoys consulting for Beautycounter, advocating for tougher legislation in the US beauty industry, stifling inappropriate profanity, managing her RBF, looking for the nearest restroom, and trying not to sing Disney songs out loud in public.


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