Fear from the thermometer and the Vaseline jar

As a child and later as a teen, how do you feel towards to the thermometer and the Vaseline jar itself? What was your first thought when you saw these together in your mom hand? Have you ever feel that these were the instruments of humiliation? Especially, if you knew already that other kids used oral method by their parents. Have you ever fantasized about hiding these items, or throw them away, so your mom can't take your temperature this way?

I always liked looking in the vaseline jar and counting the holes in the surface, knowing that every hold represented an instance of having a rectal temp taken. 30+ years later, I still have that same half used jar of vaseline that mom used on me as a kid.

For me, it was a symbol of humiliation and torture, when I was a toddler. As an adult, there's been nothing more exciting and thrilling, then to see either a photo of it, or the real thing.

I never had a fear of either. Loved it as a kid and still do now. I hid mine from my parents when they decided I was old enough for oral. So I would ever time throw up when they did oral. But because I would gag mom got a new rectal so when I moved out I took them all. I use rectal with my son too.

I didn't fear the Vaseline jar as much as the enema nozzle. When mom had the Vaseline jar out I knew something was going up my fanny.

It is an interesting connection between a Vaseline jar and a rectal thermometer. The two are forever linked, conditioned if you will in my mind, to generate a degree of anxiety and embarrassment. Separately, there is nothing special about a jar of Vaseline or even a RT in a bathroom closet or office counter. Put them together on an exam tray or in someone's hand and it's a different story. There is no denying what is to happen; the only question is what position will you need to assume. It's also quite clear that one's underwear is going to be lowered or removed to allow for this to comfortably take place. Lastly, there will be the embarrassing moment when one's buttocks is spread wide for the insertion and thereafter a hand will hold the thermometer inside you you until it registers. Your only choice is to try to relax, think calming thoughts or focus on the sensations within and perhaps tell tale signs of arousal that may be occurring. Who knew a jar of Vaseline and hearing, "let's check your temp," could become so profoundly associated in our minds?

When my mom had the thermometer in her hand, it was always prepared and ready. Al I did was walk with her to the sofa, drop my pants, underwear, and lay over her lap. Then next thing I knew was that she inserted the thermometer that was ice cold up into my rectum for the 5 minutes.

Wouldn't say I called the Vaseline jar and rectal thermometer instruments of humiliation as a child. Those two things were always in the bathroom medicine cabinet that I saw daily while growing up, and never looked at them with uneasiness. Mom only took my temperature rectally if I wasn't feeling well (as in really sick with a high fever) up until age eight or nine, but those occurrences were rare. She never made a big deal about it and neither did I. She'd already seen my bare bottom almost countless times, so I wasn't humiliated in the least bit. I'd always just lie on my belly on the bed in my room, lower my pants down just below my buttocks and she'd proceed to do the deed, as she'd be sitting on the edge of the mattress. I can recall my Nana (moms mother, which my older sister and I had always called her Nana and dads mother Grandma) taking my rectal temperature a couple of times when I was a child. Depending on how bad I felt and if I'd stayed home from school, she'd sometimes come over to the house in the morning and spend the whole day with me. I found it to be a little bit more awkward but never humiliating. She'd already seen my bare bottom numerous times too, (not as many times as mom though) and the process was the same if it'd been done by mom. If anything, she made the ordeal lighthearted since she'd often tell me 'you have the cutest buns,' whether taking my temperature or not. (naughty Nana) So no real humiliation with those even rarer occurrences. Can't say I enjoyed having my temperature taken rectally, but didn't despise it either. My feelings were neutral about it happening at home. Once I'd turned age eight or nine, my temperature was only taken orally both at home and at the pediatrician. However, the Vaseline jar and rectal thermometer remained in the medicine cabinet for years, but were no longer used and just collected dust.