Squatting to poop: the accessory the developed world is starting to eye

Squatting to poop: the natural posture making its way into the bathroom

A white plastic container, the size of a cake mold but slightly bigger, placed on the floor in front of the toilet. Two strips of paper towel at the bottom. The user squats down, does their business, picks up the paper and throws it into the bowl. It's the cheapest gadget they've tried after mulling it over: the defense of squat defecation as the natural posture of the human body and, therefore, the healthiest for the gut and for avoiding hemorrhoids.

The starting thesis is simple and repeated insistently: the conventional toilet forces an unnatural posture that over time leads to problems when passing stool. In a squat, the angle of the rectum changes, straining is reduced and the cut is cleaner. The discussion soon drifts toward consumption: what to buy, how much it costs and whether it's worth complicating your life in a 5.7-square-meter bathroom.

What accessories exist for squatting to poop

The range of solutions that comes up in the conversation runs from DIY to the ceramics catalog. There's the squatty potty, a step placed in front of the toilet to raise the feet and simulate the posture; some people simply use a step from IKEA. There's the Turkish toilet plate, the floor-level toilet common in Mediterranean countries and Japan, which Roca sells as a ceramic product. And there's the basin, the kitchen mold, the planter or the bidet placed in front of the toilet to rest your feet on.

The problem is that none of these solutions is free or easy to install. Replacing the toilet with a Turkish plate means renovation work. The step doesn't solve much: some argue the feet end up well below the height of the anus and the posture isn't the same as truly squatting. And balancing on the toilet itself, with your feet on the rim, is the cheapest and riskiest route.

The real risk of standing on the toilet bowl

Here the warning is serious and comes with professional experience. Someone who worked as a plumber warns that toilet bowl breakages are far more common than they seem: most accidents happen from slips or loss of balance, with falls onto the ceramic. A drop of water on the rim turns the porcelain into a surface as slippery as moss. And porcelain withstands compression well, but tension much worse: if the foot presses into the inner cavity and pushes outward, the toilet can give way.

The parallel drawn in the conversation is the seatbelt: many people drive for years without needing it, until they do. The case cited is that of a person weighing less than 55 kilos who climbed onto the bidet to wash their feet, broke it and needed surgery for wounds to both legs. Applied to the toilet, the affected area would be a different one.

Hygiene and splashback: the least romantic argument

Beyond posture, the discussion gets down to physical detail. Squatting over the toilet raises the drop height of the excrement and, with it, the estimulante ilegal. The consequence is a surge of water rising toward the anus. Those who have used Turkish toilet plates remember the droplets splashing over the whole area and the risk of contamination that entails. There's also the matter of clothing: in a squat you have to get rid of trousers and underwear, and when releasing the sphincter simultaneous urination isn't always controlled.

The most skeptical camp sums it up with irony: humanity's greatest achievement is pooping sitting down. The few times you have to do it in the wild, you end up longing for a toilet. The defense of the gadget rests on calf toning and a clean cut, but the flank of comfort and household logistics is left exposed.

The field test: from curiosity to habit

The most interesting development in the matter is that of whoever decided to try it at home, alone, to avoid public humiliation. The first attempt was a logistical disaster: all clothing had to come off, including socks, and the process added minutes to the moment of relief. The second attempt, taking advantage of the fact that the toilet is boxed in between the washing machine and the sink, went better. The verdict: the cut is cleaner, there's no braking against the bowl and you feel truly empty afterward.

Even occasional stinging disappeared. With the technique refined, all it takes is removing your shoes. The provisional conclusion is that the change is worth it, however bizarre or humiliating it may seem. The question that remains is how much of this is a real effect of the posture and how much is the novelty of doing something different.

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One disorienting fact remains: the conversation is 4,407 days old and still generating replies. The natural posture of the human body, championed as the great forgotten casualty of first-world civilization, is discussed with the same intensity with which a cake mold is bought at a bazaar.