Toilet Paper Usage

I use less toilet paper here than I do at home. It seems trivial but it’s produced a quite profound realization. How could such a dramatic shift in behavior occur in only a few short weeks? When I was in New York, or California, or even Japan (which was outfitted with the most ingenious & day-making “bidet” invention), I was using 5-10x the TP than I am currently. 5-10x!!! And I’m just talking about the number of sheets. This doesn’t even account for the fact that 1-ply is the standard issue here in the Philippines. In America, my booty was caressed by 2-ply at the very least. For much of my adult life, TP has fallen firmly in the Will-Happily-Splurge-On-It category. And I’m not just talking about Charmin Ultra Soft. I’m talking about indulging in Charmin Ultra Luxurious Caress Your Bottom with 500 Thread Count Egyptian Cotton Disposable Sheets. This became my habit. This habit became me. I would indulge in these luxuries because the porcelain thrones on which I sat could comfortably handle their digestion. I could dish endless sheets of TP into the gaping hole at the bottom of the bowl. And I would face no retribution for this transgression. The bottom of the bowl would just keep swallowing. I could challenge the pipes, like an over-demanding, yet potential-recognizing positive coach, because I knew the pipes could handle the stress. I knew they were up for the challenge. I believed in them, even if they didn’t believe in themselves at the moment (I’ll be honest, sometimes I pushed them 1 sheet too far. Then, I had to give them a breather, using another utterly ingenious invention: the plunger).  But here, here in the Philippines, it’s amazing how rapidly my behavior’s been changin’. My Gross Disposal Product (GDP) has more than halved. By all possible measures, I’m in a TP Recession: entering Month 2 of declining Toilet Paper Usage (but I won’t dare call it a “depression”). That said, I must admit, there’s a confounding variable that’s contributing to this. In New York, I would average a once-per-day sh*t. But here, the mean’s been hovering closer to thrice-per-week. Before sounding the alarm for my microbiome, I must also admit that this decline in defecation is likely due to my significantly reduced fiber intake. Eggs, coconut, canned tuna, and banana. Cheese (heavily processed, not the fine, French variety), unrefrigerated & shelf-stable packaged cream, milk of various varieties. Coffee & tea occasionally. Meat & rice sparingly. My diet in a coconutshell. Noticeably absent is the broccoli, spinach, kale, and all the green juices that used to accompany it. Also, as much as it pains me to admit, cottage cheese is unmistakably absent. However, I’ve resolved to be resilient! I won’t let these minor inconveniences and significant dairy-related absences deter me from being here, accepting my Reality, being fully present. I will not let these minor inconveniences lead me to falling into the trap of wishing things were different. Anyways, back to the analysis… along with the significant decline in my Total Sh*ts Given Taken, my Same Sh*t Toilet Paper Usage is also going rapidly down the toilet. As I alluded to, TP Usage is down by all relevant metrics. Why is this the case? How could Same Sh*t TP Usage be spiraling down too? Because of the power of inconvenience. The presence of an inconvenience, no matter how subtly it shows itself, has proven to be an exceptionally strong force in changing behavior. Here, TP must be thrown in the garbage. Each pondering pot has a lil bin as its sidekick. The wastebin is covered by one of those flappy lids. A lid, where, when it’s pushed on, the waste can be chucked in. I’ll be honest, I initially found the whole process quite repulsive. I can’t seem to shake the thought of people’s poopy hands — the same hands that just did the bootyhole wiping — making contact with the lid in order to swing it open. No matter how careful I am to prevent contact between my hands and my own fecal matter, I run the risk of brushing against the residual remnants left by others’ doing their business. What if their carelessness led to painted hands that then repainted the bin lid? (I don’t say this to criticize the method of disposal of the Filipinos. In fact, if anything, I’m impressed by their complete inability to complain about it. If anything, I suddenly became aware of my own previously-unexamined expectations. I grew up with TP-eating toilet bowls. I became conditioned to this. So, now that this “convenience” is absent, I feel justified in my mindset of disgust & agitation. Yet, after these emotions were observed, then, naturally, faded away, I experienced a new, unexpected emotion… I became envious. I became jealous of the Filipinos. They needed fewer conditions to be met in order to be content. If what we’re all, ultimately, solving for is happiness, then they were leaps & bounds ahead. Fewer conditions needed for happiness = higher probability of success. It’s the same way I feel grateful that I didn’t grow up the son of a billionaire. Because I shutter at the thought of expecting to fly private everywhere. If I carried those sky-high expectations into adulthood, then it would really confine me to ultra-high-earning professions, assuming Mom & Dad didn’t pay my way in perpetuity, which, in itself, would create its own set of issues as I search for my purpose in society. Instead, my expectation of a vacation was driving to Southern California in a fully-loaded Suburban. Thus, any time I boarded a plane, I perceived it as an extra-special occasion. So, now, as an adult, flying 14 hours to Asia didn’t require a First Class ticket. I don’t need Business Class to experience happiness. Sitting in Economy is entirely sufficient. As I took off to Japan, I was just grateful for the opportunity to adventure. The flight did the task I hired it for: get me from Point A to Point B. Similar to the geographically-disparate toilet experience, whether I’m dumping wipes in the bowl or the bin, whether I’m relying on wiping or enjoying a bidetin’, I’m simply completing the task requested by my body: “please dump this waste that’s been brewing inside me”. So, for as long as I’m in the Philippines, these are the characteristics of the toilet experience. What’s stopping me from accepting them? The locals aren’t bothered by it, so why should my knickers-around-my-ankles get twisted? So, the pipes aren’t strong enough to swallow up endless wads… so what?!? So, the TP must get special treatment… big whoop! Also, I’ve realized that there’s a positive externality to all of this. Amidst my in-the-name-of-sanitariness resistance, I’m incentivized to minimize my lid-to-hand contact, as already discussed. Therefore, the most obvious and direct way to decrease my exposure is to drastically reduce my Average Wipes per Sh*t. I might use the same square 2-3x before throwing it in the bin (This would be an unthinkable tactic in the midst of my New York City abundance). Also, I’ll try to finish the whole wiping process before the bin threatens to start regurgitating. I’ve realized that this overflowing can only happen by my own doing. The patron that preceded me in the bathroom likely didn’t fill it up, then just leave, at least if they have some semblance of decency. If it were beginning to overflow, then, ideally, they would have the instinct to inform one of the employees. So, if it fills up to the brim, then prevents the mini lid from swinging, that’s on me. It must’ve been on me, the user of an excessive supply of TP. So, all that said, since arriving here over a month ago, I’m a brand new man (at least from a TP Usage perspective). I abide by the Boy Scout’s “Leave No Trace” principle, no matter the bathroom in which I find myself. (Well, “Leave No Trace” might be a pipes dream in this situation… “Leave as Little Trace as Possible” is a more realistic aspiration.) Another silver brown lining of this sh*t situation, is that it’s made me more aware during the whole wiping process. I am fully present in the act. I’m analyzing the waste I’m producing. I’ve broken my habit of mindlessly consuming (or more precisely, “disposing”). So, the way I see it, this inconvenience has brought me closer to awakening. It’s made me more fully alive in my experience. Hard to put a price on that. A lot of people are willing to pay top dollar for convenience. But maybe, counterintuitively, inconvenience offers a greater reward? Not only that, but this inconvenience is decreasing my contribution to the Total Gross Disposal Product of the entire planet.