What did you say to avoid getting an enema

Once mom decided I needed an enema there was not much I could do to get out of it. Not that I wanted to. I decided early on that I kinda liked those small bulb enemas from mom. They felt good and usually did help if I had a tummy ache. So any complaining I did was just a little so she would not know that I really liked them. Most of my complaining was centered around the timing, like can we wait until this TV show is over, rather than if I was getting one or not.

I never really tried to avoid the enema. Once I was 8 I was doing my own nozzle insertions, but Dad was still controlling the valve.

By then he would sometimes give me the choice between an enema and an oral laxative. Neither was not an option. In some cases both were involved.

The times I chose oral laxatives I wished I hadn't!

When both were involved it shut me down into the afternoon.

At least withe enemas I was back on my feet in 3-4 hours

I would try to promise that I would go later or say I felt fine and that I really didn't need to go or anything. I don't think I ever actually avoided one. Most of these protests would be happening as my mom prepared the bag too.

Sometimes I would resort to lying even and say I went earlier that day. The enemas were to keep my constipation in check and little did I know that mom was already paying close attention to my bathroom habits. She'd reveal my lie when the bag was empty and give me a longer holding time for it. Took my child brain too long to figure out how she knew and I'd still often try to lie.

Nothing. Had very few enemas in childhood from my very smart RN mom probably age ~6-12. I never tried to avoid them and I have a vague recall of actually liking them.

And then I started giving them to myself at age 15 right after discovering how to make myself orgasm the same year. The addition of self-enemas, 2-2.5 quarts, made my teenage orgasms even better.

Eric

Seems it was like my sitting on the pot started a timer - after so many minutes my mom would call out "any luck yet". Once I heard that, I knew I was done for and soon I'd hear the clanking of the white metal pot being placed on the stove - my enemas were made with Ivory Flakes added to hot water on the stove....

I tried to be clever to avoid the enema and when asked "any luck yet" I would flush and say "all done", but I was instructed not to do that again, so that the results could be checked. Trying to be clever the next time I placed allot of toilet paper in the empty bowl; but that didn't work and an enema followed.

I would always say that I didn't need one and that I would have a bm on my own if she would just let me. It never worked. I stopped trying to avoid them when I was 11. I actually began to enjoy them at that age.

Assuming I wanted to avoid the enema I suppose it would be some comment on the privacy or security

Just give me a few minutes I'll be able to go. Was the most common thing I would say. It never worked. When mom decided you needed an enema that was it you were getting a bag full. Resisting was futile.

"I'll take care of it myself! I'm good, thank you!"

Wait!!!! I don't need one!!!!!

I really never liked having to have an enema. When confronted by mom saying that she thought I needed some help with a BM, I would tell her that if given a chance I'd be able to go either that night or in the morning. Only once did she take me up on that and called my bluff. The next morning the red bag was out, filled, and waiting for me. After that I would usually start with I don't want one, but that never gained much traction with her. Not long thereafter I just decided it was better to just shut up and let mom do her thing.

I remember my mom saying I needed an enema even though I had pooped that day. I think she just liked doing it. I had two sisters who got fewer than I did. Sick woman!

Gwhap, I also had two sisters. Both were much more accepting than me about getting an enema, but my younger sister absolutely enjoyed an appointment with mom's red bag and on occasion would ask to be given one. That blew my mind. She and I even talked about it and never did see eye to eye about it.

I would plead my case with Mom that I didn’t need one but it never worked. I would be marched to the bathroom where the pink bag and white douche nozzle would be waiting. I would be told to remove all of my clothes and my enema would be given with me seated on the toilet.

When my mom decided I needed an enema that was it. Nothing I said or did would prevent her from giving me one. I got a daily hot soapsuds enema whenever I was sick enough to be kept home from school, as well as a few when a dose of laxative at bedtime didn't make me go as soon as I woke up the next morning, even with the assistance of a glycerin suppository.

I don't think I said anything to the negative, or put up a fuss. While I did not openly agree with it, I think I resigned myself to the fact that it was going to happen, and looked forward to the relief a good irrigation would give me. In that mindset, I was more open to enjoy an enema than to fight it, especially when the nozzle was slipped in to my well lubed and relaxed pucker.

Only enough to let mom think I didn't like/want one, but not too far to succeed.

My 9 year old pleadings not to get a Dr.approved constipation relief enema(s) were denied/ignored. In a single parent home my Dad was the home enema giver . I would have bad constipation episodes and the enemas resolved the problem everytime. My sometimes melodramatic verbal asking to not get a enema were denied or ignored. I just quit asking/pleading. A enema was needed and I'd get it. I "manned up" and just stopped doing the babyfied protesting stuff.

Use to beg and plead please don't give me an enema but it never worked mom always proceeded to give it to me.

I use to run and try and get away but than dad got involved and it was all over at that point.

At the age von 10 years I have had an influenza combined with a severe constipation and I should receive an enema, but I refused this completely. So I have had to drink a cup with hot milk but I did not know that inside there has been a good dose castor oil.

Please I do t need one. Let me try and go

There was no argument once the decision was made. I was able to say no by the time I was 9 or 10 so mom went on to the younger kids. Grandma used to egg her on and once they decided it was all over but the expelling!

When I was in grade school, there was no getting out of an enema from Mom. I would be sitting at home and she would just walk up to me holding the full bag and tell me to go to her room. The towel was on the bed and she hung the bag on a nail by the door. I had to take my pants off and lay on my back and she would put a rolled towell under my hips. I always got two enemas. I would complain and complain but I always got the enemas. Somehow she knew or thought she knew that I needed an enema. She called them “ cleanings ” or “ spitsas ”. There were always very soapy and caused me cramps and I think my last one was in 7th grade. After that I was encouraged to give myself an enema but I only did that once while she waited in the kitchen to make sure I did it. She filled the bag and hung it up for me, twice and wanted to see the results. That only happened once

I never said a word. Once the decision was made I was stripped naked and often taken by the hand into mothers bathroom to prepare my enema. I knew it was going to happen no matter what i said, so i was quite compliant and a good enema boy

Once my mother announced, “I think you could use a good enema” there was no getting out of it. I would whine and protest, “I don't need one! I went to the bathroom this morning! I feel fine!” There was never the thought of disobeying the woman, even though she was physically smaller than any of her children. As the Borg would say, “Resistance is futile.”

Soon enough I would find myself kneeling over the rim of the bathtub, pants off, looking at the full red bag of warm Ivory soapsuds hanging from the towel rack over the tub. My mother would be sitting next to me on the tub rim holding the red hose with the menacing black nozzle in one hand while coating the nozzle with Ponds cold cream with the other hand.

A ‘good enema’ meant, in my mother's terminology, a full bag of soapsuds followed by a tap-water rinse. If you could not take all of the soapsuds enema, it meant you really WERE clogged up and the bag would be refilled and you tried again.

My mother could have served as the model for the phrase, “She who must be obeyed!”

I was afraid if I protested I wouldn’t get the enema and I loved them!

When our mother or grandmother decided it was time for a couple of enemas, my brother, sister, an I had two choices. Take the enemas and don’t complain or, complain and get a good bare bottom spanking, then a couple of enemas. This only happened twice, best I recall, once when I was six or seven and then when I was ten or eleven. We three were all anal erotic and enjoyed enemas, so we never really put up much of a fuss. Only enough to hide the fact that we liked getting enemas.

There was no avoiding it . Preparations were had already started when when we were told .

Personally, I never said anything to avoid getting an enema. But, I did ask Mama many times if she would give me one.