A friend came to my house for the first time recently and needed to use the bathroom.“Did you notice the padded toilet seat?” I asked upon her return.
“My grandmother had them,” she replied.
It’s a response I’m used to hearing. I’m known among certain friends as the guy with the padded toilet seats. (I’m also known as the guy who talks about his toilet seats. Go figure.) People laugh and tease, but never once have I heard a complaint from people who've used my bathroom.
The average person spends roughly four years sitting in the bathroom during the course of a lifetime, according to a study I just made up. I say you might as well be comfortable while you are in there. History shows I’m in select company:
- Prehistoric Times: Man develops first padded toilet seat using woolly mammoth fur. Smell eventually causes glaciers to retreat.
- 410 CE – Visigoths destroy Roman factory that is world’s leading producer of padded toilet seats. Dark Ages begin.
- 1517 – Among Martin Luther’s “Theses”: No more wooden toilet seats in church bathrooms.
- 1910 – White House workers add extra padding to President Taft’s Oval Office toilet seat at the same time they widen his bathtub.
But us pad-ites, we look beyond the superficial to what's inside. Specifically, foam. We literally value the support. We imagine that if our butts could talk, they would say, "So this is what a Snuggie feels like!"
Valuing utility over style is the same reason I keep those little bathroom cups by my sink. I want to rinse thoroughly after brushing my teeth, not wash my imaginary goatee. If humans were supposed to drink water out of cupped hands, we'd have a little more webbing between our fingers.
I know I'll probably never win these bathroom battles, but I promise to continue spreading the gospel. Maybe padded toilet seats won't lead to world peace or pare down the national debt, but try it and I guarantee you'll leave the bathroom a happier person.
Stop by my house any time. I'll leave the seat down for you.
Grew up in a house with padded seats. But I can't say I've carried on the tradition...
ReplyDeleteAs I just visited the throne within the last 10 minutes, I feel I'm especially equipped to address this issue.
ReplyDeleteNo one can deny the soft seating pleasure a cushioned seat provides, but at the first rip in the seat in an area that touches the especially sensitive skin of the hamstring or buttocks, the joy of softness is forever disturbed. No amount of duct tape will ever reclaim it.
And so, when I move into my new apartment in the next month, I won't even consider the pad. I'll be going with the ergonomically designed sleekness of the modern bowl, and every part of my body will thank me.
I firmly believe in the ideals of the "To each, their own" movement, but I do fear that you really do not know what you're missing.