What did you say to avoid getting an enema

I didn't get enemas on a regular schedule, but if I complained of a tummy ache and mom decided the cause of the problem was I hadn't pooped lately, I would be given the choice of Castoria or an enema. I hated the taste of the Castoria and I didn't mind the small bulb enemas I usually got, so once I chose the enema it was pretty much a done deal. The only argument was how many bulbs I had to take. If I asked her to stop because I was full before the agreed number of bulbs had been taken, she didn't force me to take more, but would remind me that if not much poop came out, she would have to do it again, with more the next time. And, since I sort of liked those enemas, I was careful not to protest too much, but just enough so she didn't know I was enjoying it.

Once the enema prep started, nothing I could say would prevent it. Even if I did manage to go, it was still going to be given.

Nothing. Back in those days I did as I was told.

Anything I could. I got way more suppositories than enemas, but heard them being prepared or heard word of it and I ran, screamed, kicked, whatever. Never worked

Nothing worked. When it was going to happen it happened. Just had to go with the flow.

There was nothing I could say or do once they decided to give me an enema that would change the outcome. When little, my fussing and carrying on definitely made it more of an ordeal for me as there was no privacy and everyone heard me. My grandparents were a big influence on my mother and her use of enemas on me. Growing up, if an enema was in my future, whether I saw it coming or not, there was no chance of changing the outcome

It was like what happened in a court of law. I lost every case; after all, I didn't have a lawyer on my side. Once the verdict was delivered, enforcement usually followed immediately.

Nothing would dissuade mom. That didn't stop me from trying:

"I don't want an enema."

"I don't need an enema."

"I already went to the bathroom today."

"Can't you give me some more time? I'm sure I'll go to the bathroom later."

"It's not fair. [My sister} is the one who's sick. I'm not sick, so why do I have to have an enema too?"

"I'm not constipated, really."

"I just have a cold. I'm not really that sick... I'm not constipated."

My arguments and pleas fell on deaf ears. When mom decided to give me an enema, she wasn't about to change her mind. I soon found myself with a nozzle up my backside enduring a big soapsuds enema.