My dentist told me I had "pockets." Not the kind you keep change in—the kind that mean your gums are slowly retreating from your teeth like a cowardly army abandoning a fort. He recommended I "take control of my oral health," which sounded empowering until I realized he was just trying to sell me a $39.99 plastic device from Amazon. So I bought the Take control of your oral health (ASIN B09C2QZQFQ), not for my mouth, but because I have a condition where I need to know if everything can function as something else. Call it a hobby.
First off, this thing looks like a prop from a low-budget sci-fi movie where aliens communicate through pressurized water. It's got a tank, a nozzle, and a button that unleashes a jet stream capable of dislodging fossils. I filled it with warm water (body temperature, obviously), charged it for six hours, and stared at it on my bathroom counter like it was a Rubik's Cube that might explode.
Now, the obvious question: could this perform admirably in a region where the sun doesn't shine? I'm not saying I tried it—let's call it an exploratory feasibility study. The nozzle is tapered, which is promising. The pressure settings range from "gentle rain" to "power washer for a stucco ceiling." I started at level one, because I'm not a daredevil. The result? Let's just say it's not something I'd recommend for that particular ecosystem. The water hits like a tiny fire hose from an alternate dimension. My eyes watered. The cat left the room. I learned something about myself.
So if you're wondering is zojirushi water flosser safe for unconventional purposes, the answer is: only if your idea of safety involves spontaneous levitation. I've seen the zojirushi water flosser tried it forums, and they're full of mad scientists who should have been stopped. For $39.99, it's a perfectly adequate device for its intended purpose—which is blasting plaque out of your teeth, not triggering existential questions about anatomy. But I respect the ambition. The things I wish I knew zojirushi water flosser include: it's loud, it splashes, and you should never, ever trust a nozzle shaped like that without a manual written by a priest.
I gave it three stars. For the teeth, five. For my midnight science project, one star and a court summons from my own dignity.
