I have written several blogs, made numerous references, and even a detailed half true story, The Wellness Institute, about my wife, Sharon, and her enjoyment of enemas. As it turns out she has never been much of a stranger to getting a good cleaning out and it goes back to her childhood.
Part I: Growing Up
Sharon grew up in a family with a younger brother, Matthew, as the only sibling. Her mom was born in the mid 1930s meaning that it was clearly during the Golden Age of the Enema. Neither Sharon nor her brother were strangers to getting enemas for any childhood ailments. The preferred method in their house was the use of a red bulb that probably held all of 6 ounces of the solution of choice, Ivory bar soap in warm water. Such enemas never took long to give: just insert the lubed pipe, give a squeeze, withdraw, and hold the buttocks closed for a couple of minutes. Once on the potty, the warm enema and the pent up poop would naturally flow out. By Sharon’s own account, she never minded getting an enema: they were quick, they worked, and she always felt much better afterward.
As Sharon got older, her mom thought that she needed a little bit more volume and the number of insertions went from one to two. Still for a 10 year old, 12 ounces was enough enema for her. However, once she became a teenager, her mom felt that even two bulbs were not enough. But four insertions do start to get to be a bit uncomfortable and Sharon then became a lot less enthusiastic about getting an enema. Learning of her daughter’s concern, her mom quickly switched from the bulb to the family’s enema bag and along with it Sharon was no longer getting 24 ounces, but more like a whole quart. It was much more comfortable, albeit a bit more intimidating to find the bulging enema bag hanging from a hook in the bathroom waiting for her.
Many teens start to become embarrassed about bodily functions and Sharon was no exception. Having had numerous enemas over the years, one time when she was feeling particularly sluggish, Sharon decided to attempt an enema on her own. Quietly she went into the bathroom, got out the combination syringe and ran the water into the sink. Then just like her mom did, she swished the Ivory for a minute or so before scooping up the mixture with the drinking glass and filling the bag. So far so good even if she could feel her throat getting dry and her palms becoming a bit sweaty. She hung the bag, slipped out of her panties, laid over the edge of the bathtub, and inserted the lubed pipe. She kept telling herself, “you’re a big girl now and can do this” as she reached around and released the clamp.
The enema started to flow and she could feel its warmth enter her. She remembered her mom telling her to take some deep breaths because that will allow her body to draw the liquid further into her. She didn’t know if it was true or not, but just the same breathed deeply. She looked at the bag on the wall and could tell how far it had gone down—it wasn’t that much. To make the time pass she thought happy thoughts, which in her case was going to the beach on a warm summer day. Her mind drifted and she lost all sense of time, which was probably a good thing because the next time she looked at the bag it was lying flat against the wall—yes, she had taken it all! She moved to the toilet and expelled for what seemed to be the longest time. At first she was concerned, but when she looked over at the bag it dawned on her that she had made herself a full two quarts and not just a single one like her mom would have done for her. Wow, but was she cleaned out now!