Jim Kershner: Euphemistically speaking, this chaps my hide
I went shopping for toilet paper the other day. I didn’t find one single roll, and let me tell you why.
Toilet paper does not exist.
Nowhere in America can you find a product called “toilet paper.” What I found was “bath tissue.”
“Bath tissue”? As euphemisms go, “bath tissue” may be one of the dumbest in the English language.
Just to demonstrate, I tried this experiment: I filled up the bath. I climbed in. I brought a roll of bath tissue in with me and then attempted to use it for – I don’t know, anything I thought a person might use a “bath tissue” for. I tore off a few sheets and washed my face. I blew my nose. I took a clump and attempted to clean between my toes. I massaged some into my scalp. I pulled out a yard or two and tried to floss my teeth.
None of this worked out so well. My bath tissue rapidly became a sodden, lumpy mess. It clung to my fingers and stuck to my nose. It decorated my hair with little white spitballs. It turned – rather remarkably for a product made of wood – into what looked like a series of wet gray snails, crawling around my bathtub ring.
In other words, bath tissue turned out to be one of the worst things I have ever brought into my bath with me, with the possible exception of one very, very angry house cat.
So, naturally we have named this product “bath tissue.” A number of other brands call themselves “bathroom tissue,” which is a marginal improvement. This product is indeed used in the bathroom, if not in the bath. However, “bathroom tissue” raises yet another euphemism issue, which is:
Why do we persist in calling them “bathrooms”?
Half of them don’t even have baths in them anymore. If we wanted our euphemisms to be even remotely accurate, we should be calling them shower rooms. But, no, we can’t let go of our Victorian prudishness regarding bodily functions. We have to pretend that our bathrooms are intended for every purpose except for, you know, making water, working on our regularity issues, evacuating the cellar, occupying the throne and going to see a man about a horse.
In a literal world, here are just a few of the answers we would give to that age-old question (accompanied by pounding on the door), “Hey! What are you doing in there?”:
“Powdering. I am applying powder.”
“I am watering the foliage. That is what one does in this closet.”
“I am laving myself. You know, with a ladle.”
“I am visiting my friend. You know: John.”
“I am visiting my friend. You know: Loo.”
“I am doing my washing.”
“I am making myself comfortable.”
“I’m resting! So give it a rest!”
The above apply to the following euphemisms, in order: Powder room, water closet, lavatory, john, loo, washroom, comfort station and restroom.
The more I think about this, however, the more I’m feeling an increasing gratitude for our euphemisms. The alternative may be worse: Calling these items by their exact literal terms, and by that I do not mean “toilet paper.” I mean something with the word “wipe” in it, which, let’s face it, lacks a certain poetry. The way our culture is going, we will undoubtedly go too far in that crass direction. Everybody will take down the signs that say “Restroom” and put up signs that end in “-er.”
So, I will concede that calling toilet paper “bathroom tissue” is better than going to the opposite, unsavory extreme. Not only that, but calling our comfort station “a restroom” is better than calling it something that ends in “-house” or “-can” or “-pit.” Nobody wants to ask the waitress at a restaurant, “Point me to your (word-that-will-ruin-everybody’s- appetite)-ster.”
Yet, for the literal-minded, I must reiterate: Your bath tissue is spectacularly ill-suited for its specifically named use. It will do nothing but clog your drains and jam up your pipes – and no, those are not euphemisms.