Enemas in the 1940s and 50s

My anal activity was 'tracked' with accuracy. Starting in the late 30's I was on a daily dose of ground-up Senna Leaves , dried apricot, dried prunes. My Mother was a single-parent and so didn't rely on a fixed schedule butt "as required" per her schedule and my behavior. the result was i received frequent enemas. --towel on the floor, hands & knees, head down. Red bag, black adult nozzle and probably a quart and a half, based on bag appearance memories based on what i know now.

I don't recall it ever being a dreaded thing...I enjoyed the 'alone time' with my Mother.

Merry Christmas Folk.....hold your 'dear ones' close!

the boxcar

Two things got me an enema every time. Answering my mom "no" when she asked if I had had a BM or if I acted "fussy". I was never quite sure what "fussy" was, but a soapy enema was the cure. The other sure fire thing was having to stop and think when asked when was the last time I had an enema. That meant it had been too long and I needed a good cleaning out. (ie. Multiple bags) Also the Sunday before the first day of school in the fall and after Christmas break in the winter.

We had the red enema bag with its large black nozzle hanging on the bathroom and so did most of my friends.

I personally grew to enjoy the experience even though I pretended otherwise. On occasion I would tell my mother I wasn't feeling right and probably needed an enema. She always obliged.

Enemas weren't particularly private in my house. Mom often had help from my cousin or aunt and sometimes used me to demonstrate the "how to" to younger mothers in the neighbourhood.

When my mom asked that same question, when did you last go, I knew I was in trouble. Soon I would find myself in the bathroom, which was filled with the scent of Ivory soap, as she used the syringe on me to make me go. I was born in the fifties and enemas were her way of taking care of me, as common as a Bandaid for a cut or scrape. Many problems were taken care of at home by her instead of a trip to the doctor. Enemas were very common back then as I discovered by snooping in the bathrooms of my cousins. Every household had a syringe of some sort so I knew my cousins received the same treatment when needed even though we never spoke of it. Even though I disliked those early enemas and put up quite a fuss, that never stopped my mom from doing her duty. She was a firm believer in being regular and she never hesitated to syringe me to accomplish her goal.

Buddy your email remains nds me too f my mm. She thoughtbenemas were the cure all for everything and especially constipation. Enema you know me was something I did not look forward to but then I didn't know I would come to like them as an adult.

Like Buddy said, nearly every bathroom in those days had a bulb or bag (sometimes both) that was used frequently.

Mom sort of had a sense about these things. If I complained of a tummy ache, or laid around the house instead of playing outside, the first question was, "when is the last time you went poop?" If the answer was not today, an enema was sure to follow. Not that an enema was a bad thing. I was beginning to like it.

I think it was just the culture in those days. Moms were responsible for their children's health and did what they thought was necessary. My mom was a firm believer in regularity and was quick to get out the syringe and use it on me whenever I was constipated. I had a habit of holding back, which would often lead to constipation, so I found myself on the business end of that syringe quite often. As she syringed me she would tell me that if I kept myself regular she wouldn't have to do this to me. I think those enemas were not only to cure my constipation, but also to teach me a lesson about holding back.

I remember if the old Dr we had would always ask my mother if I had been given an enema. He usually told her to give me one later and as needed. She followed directions...lol

Late 1940s. My first enema was over my mothers knees at about 4 years old. I kicked and screamed because nothing was explained to me, however, that first enema hooked me for life. We didn't have any fancy enemas equipment. Just a cheap combination bag which as I grew older and I had the opportunity arose I would give an the enema or many if time allowed. We had an Army doctor that always, it seemed, would tell my mother to take me home, give me and enema and put me to bed. He was certainly a believer of the enema. Me too.ect.

Being a baby-boomer, I probably was on the back edge of the golden age of enemas. By the 50's I was aware my friends and relatives also got enemas, but everybody claimed to hate them. Me included. It was not hard to find enema stuff in those days. Sometimes a bulb sitting out in the open on a shelf in the bathroom, maybe a bag hanging somewhere in the bathroom, or if not in plain sight a peek into the cabinet under the bathroom sink would frequently yield a sighting. Since in those days most of the homes in our neighborhood had only one full bathroom, if there was anything it was easy to find. Not like today where visitors to the house are unlikely to get to where the good stuff might be.

I did not get regular enemas, such as every Saturday night, like some of you did. But if I complained of an upset tummy, an enema was the likely cure. By the 60's I was well into realizing that I liked a small enema and was giving them to myself whenever the opportunity presented itself. But I was not ready to admit to anyone that I liked enemas. I thought I was a freak for liking water shot up my butt. It would be the 70's before I realized I was not the only one who took enemas for reasons other than constipation. Things really changed with the internet. We are not alone. Maybe still a minority, but certainly not alone.

Well said red bulb

There would have been some nice bits, but then again I have also benefitted from many of the advances made since then, both medically and other technology. A visit every so often could be fun.

Born in the mid 1950's my mom was a true believer in the enema. She took them almost every week and I got a couple every month. I had constipation issues (still do). If I did not go for two days it was down on the bathroom floor and up my rectum with the black enema nozzle slick with Vaseline.

I lived with my grandmother in the late 40's and she was a firm believer in enemas. I did not much like them at the time because of the soap suds, but later after I moved in with my dad and his new wife, I would sneak them whenever I could. They never gave me one, but step-mom had a douche bulb syringe that I really loved. I was surprised I never got caught, but I cleaned everything up very thoroughly.

I was born in the late 40's so guess I am of the ' baby boomer ' generation . I grew up / came of age in the decade of the 1950's where an enema in our home was just a part of our home life . My mother administered my enemas and always from an enema syringe bag as far back as I can recall . Mother believed that an enema was the start of wellness given any childhood illness that I may have encountered and our family physician was very ' pro-enema ' as well often on an office exit visit he would direct my mom as in ' and let's give him an enema....... tomorrow morning will be fine ' as our doctor office visits were usually late afternoon appointments . Mom always complied but she was ' way ahead ' of him there as to her enema activities for me . As to our family physician's ' orders ' , mom would just ' nod her pretty head gravely ' as in complete concurrence with ' doctor's orders ' !! I knew many of my friends both girls and boys who confided that they were ' enema kids ' as well and visits to their homes only confirmed the truth of their statements as ' hooks / drying bags and hoses ' were often displayed in their bathrooms . These were so very ' innocent ' times !!! ......... and yes , I do miss the cultural openness and acceptance of the enema of that day . As to my ' journey ' that led me to this site I must share a sincere thank you to my late mother for what has been a most rewarding lifelong activity as to ' in the beginning ' . Thanks mom ......

I've been thinking about this post for a while. It makes some sense that the US may have had a special time in history when enemas might have been very prolific. Lets think about this. In the 40's the US just learned a very very valuable lesson about how important it is to have structure in life... We just won the war. Everyone was taking things to extremes with discipline, structure and order . Just look at some of the outrageous cars built in the fifties with wings! Healthcare was obviously doing the the same thing. We were going to raise kids healthier, on a schedule, taking enemas. I'm sure that the things we learned from the war like, structure and scheduling carried over into all aspects of the american way of life including enemas.

These were so very ' innocent ' times !!! ......... .

Don't want to rain on your parade or anything, but when people are young, especially still children, it always seems in retrospect that those were innocent times. Surely you've noticed here on the forum that people born in the 40's say this, so do people in the 50's 60's, 70's and 80's. And soon so will those born in the 90's.

The reason times seem innocent, is because most children do not have many real responsibilities. The first time my son said that to me (on a different subject though) I almost couldn't stop laughing. He didn't understand that when he was 10, I was 38 and already up to my neck in being responsible and making decisions I didn't care to make.

And so it will go on with future generations ...

I think its natural to see the majority of enema enthusiasm was generated by those who received them in the their childhood and early teens. Before even knowing what sex was, found a love/hate romance with that rubber bag and thinking back, what seemed like a much longer hose.

Today the hose is shorter and the bags hold less. These days the bag is a mere 2 feet above the receiver, and the newer bags only hold 1.75 qts.

Gone are the days when mom held the bag high, and you heard that familiar "click' of the metal hose shut off ( which by the way had 2 settings Full-On or Off). Thats when you knew you were in for it. You got it non stop, and don't even bother to ask for it to stop, because you knew the answer was you'd be finished just as soon as the bag was empty....But you weren't finished all, you had to "hold it, and let the enema do its work".

I guess today we'd look at all that as cruelty, and that may be right. But back then most people I knew got them just like that, and I'm sure that includes many of us (both males and females) right here on Zity.

Its also interesting that when you talk to many of that era who remained attracted to their bags, and they think back to what the life long attraction was, I believe many would say; Frankly...the discomfort plays a big part..

Yet there was something magical that attracted many to that red bag for the rest of their lives, and for most of us, It was a lifelong best kept secret!

Today young people can't even spell enema, and I don't ever put the little plastic bottle sold in the drug dept. in the same category.

So to be honest those of us who for any given reason, have this strong attraction to the bag and hose, Its a pretty safe bet there will be less, and less of us as time marches on.

I saw an "Enema in The 60's" topic here, and have written of high school enema adventures during the early part of that decade. While this could go into, "Where the adventure started" I would like to give the younger set, a special view to earlier times. My dad's brother also told of enema experiences in a social game like setting during the 30's which gained dynamic regularity in their community or maybe they were getting together following something cant be sure. But they played enema games together as kids in the 30's. My mom told of playing with friends and family too, but without much else, except maybe packing a boy's foreskin with small pebbles while giving n taking. Seemed like a naughty girl's way of playing house.

I especially like seeing a lady getting a nice filling. I come to that appreciation by getting one now and then myself. I'll weigh it, pose it, rub it, and generally admire it. As a kid, out away from the rest of the world, my dad needed regular enema treatments. Mom became the proud expert for her hero. He was a WW-2 casualty that amazingly lived against all odds. I picked up on everything that was regularly important. I completely understood the system and its proper setup, including an all important temperature measurement with a milk thermometer that would float in the solution. Dad expressed such great appreciation and honor as mom served him.

We had a 4 X 10 foot cement watering trough, 3 feet deep. Occasionally a few times a year in the summer, we had an enema party. Wasn't called that, but as we bathed, all together, mom would fill him up. We used to have an old blk n wht photo of him sporting a huge belly with a white brazier n panties. This was in the early 50's. So an enema for us, was a treat from the very start, almost. Don't remember when I started "needing" one. It was even offered as a reward. An original, win - win. They would give them in a very loving atmosphere with words of praise and endearment. But out at the cow tank, the cement sides were like a bench all around. There was splashing, us little ones learned to dog paddle and go under water. It was a regular family fun spot. So, when the enema scenes occurred, it was a fun surprise of love and laughter.

Sears Roebuck had a picture catalog my brother and I enjoyed studying together. We established an anal fetish before the 4th grade and brought cousins in on the secret. One cousin lived 4 hours away and earnestly begged to stay with us. He was not used to large animal droppings and got both feet involved in carrying wads along with him. We tried to help him, but after a while, he got into it anyway. To this day he never talks about getting filled, but likes to pretend we tricked him into stepping into shooot! There was a mysterious intrigue about gettin yer tummy bigged.

The very first remembrance was in the late 40's. Mom took the mattress off the army surplus bunk bed and covered the spring wire webbing with a layer of news papers. She would announce enema day and get everything ready, listening to Benny Goodman band and Spike Jones on the radio. After the first time, we well knew our little tummy's were getting watered, like it or not. i remember, it was messy. Water was warmed on the stove. We emptied into a bucket. It was big ordeal. I don't remember much, except that mom coached us and patiently taught us to just let it in as it was good for us. We learned together, talking about it afterward. Saturday mornings we had to stay outside and entertain ourselves till we were called. We liked to play house with sister, greasing and poking each other with a finger. Then when visiting a neighbor family up the road a ways, we just showed up. No home phones out in the country for another 10 to 15 or more years yet. Their mother just sent us home. Not to be put off easily, we returned the next week and i was given a mud pie to eat. I started in on it and the little girl took it away and petted me on the head, apologizing by explaining she was instructed to feed it to me. I suggested we play house, and put my little hand on her shoulder. We made more mud pies, but they were just for show. Eventually we were wondering what to do next. Long story short, sister showed me off with my pants down. Then i was given a pretend enema with a little finger stuck up my butt. Sister decided i had had enough and sat me on a bucket. While on the bucket, the neighbor wanted to treat my sister. She took it proudly and bravely, showing her tummy, like as if it was filling up. We went around like that giving a finger in the butt for fun. Next week their mother sent them down to our place. We stayed out of trouble and played well together regularly after that. I know our mother knew we did stuff to each other sometimes, but i never knew what their mother was aware of. As long as we were peaceful, all was well and we worked hard on keeping it that way.

I contacted the little girl through ClassMates when that got started about 2005. That website is handy that way because people belong to specific schools and years. But if people don't join, they are not catalogued. Then you just sort through the names. Now a lot of the schools also have year books. But i was fortunate in that my friend had bought a membership, which allowed me to contact her. But she is not talkative. I suspect she has to be careful.

The 50's meant pre-k to 9th grade for me. I grew up in an enema family, and got frequent enemas from my grandma, mom, and Mom's sister, my aunt. Both my older sister and I were constantly getting constipated, and all three women had only one treatment for us. They used it on each other, also: the Ivory soapsuds enema. We got them for as long as I could remember, and enemas were a common topic for discussion at the dinner table. Lisa and I got enemas from all three women, but we liked getting them from Aunt Ruth most. Enemas were sexual for all three (looking in retrospect), but Ruth was never happier that when she was getting, holding, or releasing a large soapy enema. Her enthusiasm translated into giving great enemas, and eventually other benefits. Both of us kids got enemas at home until our early twenties. (We attended a local college and lived at home.) By the time I was nine, Lisa and I were also giving to each other, with the adults' full knowledge. We also were doing them with Dianna, who lived a couple of houses down. Lisa talked Dianna into enemas with her, and she wanted to see how it gave me erections. This curiosity led a few years later into some great sex with her. We thought that Dianna's mom was in the dark, but one day I went over to their house to do enemas with Dianna, and her mom met me at the dooor. I thought I was busted, but her mom just told me that she knew why I was there, but that Diana had a club meeting. Then, she said, "I can give you an enema if you want me to." She was a nurse, and she gave me a very thorough cleaning out; but it was very professional and clinical. She also told me that Dianna really enjoyed giving them to me and getting them from me. It all broke up after college, and although Lisa and I live together now, neither of us knows what became of Dianna.

We must remember that someone born in 1959 is turning 60 THIS year.

Let's face it, medical science is pretty certain that we don't remember ANYTHING before we are 3 and not a lot before we are 4. What we DO remember before 4 is traumatic events.

So, anyone who remembers much at all from the 1950s is going to have to be at least 65 or 66 years old, if not older. As a result it is getting harder to find them and the ones you can find their memories fade!

I was born in 1959 in the tail end of the Golden Age where enemas were pretty much a way of life. Their use started to wind down in the middle to late 1960s. I do remember as a kid, seeing many enema bags hanging in the shower when over my friends houses. It is a dying art indeed.

I suppose that my early life in the 50's conditioned me for much of the rest of my life. While I grew up to be quite a contrarian in many respects, my early experiences with enemas stuck with me for a lifetime. My mom and her parents had many hangups and my sisters followed suit. I was exposed to my paternal grandparents quite often, and discovered many aspects of daily life that weren't governed by my mom's hangups.

The bottom line is that enemas were a common treatment in my childhood. I do have recall of some events when I was a toddler and I can confirm them due to our frequent changes in living arrangements. I also self-administered the first time at age 6. I can confirm this by an event (earthquake) that caused a significant calamity.

Like others, I recall the frequent and common display of enema/douching equipment at home, friend's houses, and also other places such as hospitals, clinics, and certainly the drug stores. The medical texts of the time seemed to always have information and illustrations relavent to the administration of such treatments.

Seldom did one get admitted to a hospital without a "welcoming" enema or shave. Various tests were preceded by "enemas til clear". Laxative regimines came along years later. Hospitals still used red rubber enema bags and hot water bottles. Disposables seemed to be introduced in the late 60's to early 70's and those beautiful implements started to disappear. While I was quite intimidated by the red enema bag and black nozzle as my mom hovered over me, later in life I developed a fetish for these items and have collected, bought, and sold hundreds.

I have found that an enema, with a vintage item from decades ago, provides varying degrees of stimulus and/or relaxation, as the need or desire arises. I'm glad that the world and technology has progressed over time, but still enjoy that simplest of procedures as an old fart!

For a lot of reasons, just ONE being enemas, I don't see that era as being so "innocent"

I'm glad in a lot of ways I was not around back then.

I was born in ‘51. I don’t recall but a few things before I started kindergarten which was at 5. I do remember my early enemas from mom but I can't recall the specific age although I know I received some before starting school so I must have been 4 going on 5. But again I don't remember specifics until a later age.

As a War Baby I was in the second grade by 1950. Enemas were given to me on a routine basis until I reached age 12. Doctors ordered them as symptoms of early Polio were the same as constipation.

My first enema was late 50’s. I don’t remember the circumstances but I did get a lot of milk of magnesia during that time so I suspect the first occasion that it didn’t work my mom moved on to an enema. I only remember having to lay on a towel on my parent’s bed and there being a pint jar of soapy water on the night stand. The infant bulb syringe was red with a black nozzle. I can remember the sounds of the syringe bubbling in that jar as she filled it like it was yesterday! I put up a fight so she didn’t get more than a bulb or two in me before she picked me up and carried me to the toilet.

That bulb got a lot of action after that and until I was graduated to the bag several years later. Once when in college I was home alone and happened to spot it in my parents bathroom closet. I just had to use it for old times sake. The first time I squeezed it, it split! It got returned to it’s tucked away place. Next time I looked for it, it was gone.

Don't know if I posted this or not before, in the ‘50’s, remember going to somebody's party, birthday, who knows. One of the items unboxed was an enema bag. At another time going to a wrestling match with my dad and the same friend mentioned above, he made the comment “enema tonight, huh?” I think it was common after eating junk food at an event, you got cleaned out afterwards.

Another time, remember going to a birthday party as a kid, after the party we all lined up for the bathroom, we all got enemas in the bathtub, so the bathtub was busy so was the toilet. Again, probably because of the “junk” food at the party. I wonder if enemas were part of the Portuguese culture.

No wonder we are klysmos or however you spell it … the hoseman1

My siblings and I were all born in the forties and grew up in the fifties. Enemas were commonplace in the fifties when we were growing up and were the go too treatment for a lot of different maladies.

A douche/enema bag always hung in our bathroom and I saw similar bags hanging in our friends bathrooms. We all got enemas at home from mom or grandma for a number of different reasons.

Our friends were no different, getting enemas from their mom or grandmother. We talked amongst ourselves about who had gotten an enema or who was going to get one. One thing we all did was put up a facade about not liking enemas to our friends when the opposite was the truth. The only ones we couldn’t fool were our siblings, they knew how we really felt about enemas.

As we got older, we slowly dropped the facade with our friends and talked more openly about enemas. Our moms talked among themselves about our enemas with each other. Telling the others who had gotten an enema or who was fixing to get one and why. We overheard these conversations from time to time and couldn’t keep quiet about it. Some of our friends and their siblings got enemas on a regular schedule once a week or every other week. We didn’t get enemas on a regular schedule, but we might just as well have had. Because I don’t think a week went by that we didn’t get an enema for one reason or the other during the school year.

Summer time was different, because we spent a lot of time at our grandmothers during summer vacation. Mom had two teenage sisters still living at home and our RN grandmother assigned them the job of taking care of us. If grandma thought we all needed a couple of enemas she had the two girls do it before our evening bath. Like mom, her two sisters gave us enemas while we were together in grandmas large downstairs bathroom before we got a shower or a bath. Grandma gave us enemas one on one or told one of the girls to do it, but for the most part, it was one of the girls doing the one on ones.