Did you easily accept being given enemas as a child?

I really don't remember putting up a fuss. I actually enjoyed them. They were routine events and I just accepted it.

I was part of the ”Compliant contingent” here who accepted my parents decisions.

Life in the 1950s in Ohio was actually pretty simple back then we had one rule:

“Parents are the adults and adults make the decisions and children are to do as they are told…or else”

Temper tantrums, Sassing, use of foul language, fighting with your sibling, refusing to take your medicine or do as you were told, along with a host of other unacceptable behaviors had “consequences”.

We didn’t have “Time outs” back them and I never remember my Mom, offering me a choice about what I wanted to wanted to do, so there was no need to waste a lot of time trying to come up with an answer.

The first enema that I got I accepted nervously as I wasn’t sure what it would actually feel like even after my Mom explained it before she administered it. I accepted it in a compliant manner and found it intriguing. When I was given a second one late in the week and was told that I was going to be getting them weekly from now on, I took it in the same non-confrontational manner. I soon found that I began to look forward to them. As I entered puberty, my compliance paid off as I had my first orgasm while getting a weekly enema.

I don’t regret a moment of my childhood, I was fed and clothed and taught the difference between right and wrong and most important of all, I learned the difference between “servants” and “parents”.

Cheers,

Jag

Did not receive many enemas as a kid. Yes, I did accept them without a fight.

According to my older sister, I received my first enema the day Mom brought me home. We both received twice-weekly enemas growing up, so I just thought they were a normal part of life. When I as old enough to remember, Sis and I got them together. She never complained, so neither did I. By puberty, we were both dedicated klismos, and were sneaking enemas together whenever we were home alone. We were finally caught by Mom & Grandma returning early one afternoon. I was sure we were in trouble, but Mom just said, "Be sure you clean the bag when you finish." After that, we didn't worry about Mom or Gram being home, and would just ask them if we could use the bathroom to do enemas. We always got permission unless they needed the room. They gave to each other frequently, and we had to wait for them to finish.

The first few times that I can remember was when I was about 6-7yo and positively refused to take a dump at school. It seemed that you were made fun of if you went into a stall in the boys room. We were not allowed to use the bathroom except as a group.---When I got home, Mom always seemed to know if I was constipated since back then. I never closed the bathroom door at home and I guess Mom would bring out the bag if I stayed in there too long

I positively hated it at first and my father was called to hold me down. Since I walked to school and passed some small businesses in the process, I learned to take a dump at the 5&10 cent store on my way home.(they had a single stall bathroom with a lock on the door) Mom was none the wiser and that eliminated the need to home enemas for a while. I think that with Dad holding me still for the process, that was what scarred me the most

What was really strange, a few years later, when I was in 5th grade, the teacher made us hold up 1 finger if we needed to take a piss or 2 fingers of we needed to poop. I always just held up one finger and since I was now alone in the boys room, I did whatever I wanted. (just didnt take too long or everyone would know)

How strange is all of this because back then if another kid (or even a grown up) saw my penis, I didnt care, but not my butt. As kids we all peed in front of each other outside in the woods.

I remember constipation problems from as long as I can remember anything. It wasn't until later in life that I found out that I had a 'mega rectum' and was thought to have been caused by Hirschprung's Disease. I got enemas all my life. I didn't have an opinion one way or another, other than I always enjoyed my time alone with my Mother for whatever the reason. Later, about age 8 or 10.I started enjoying them and would sneak once in awhile.

Now, in my eighties, I'm totally dependent on enemas from all the gut surgeries and related issues leaving my colon without any peristalsis. But who's complaining? --not I, says this old fart!

the boxcar

The way my mother approached things made it easy. The first time she presented it as being my decision. She explained the process, why it needed to be done and how it would keep my stomach ache from getting worse. She gave me some alternatives which were to wait a day, go to the doctor tomorrow or agree to getting an enema today. I went to my room and thought about it for a few minutes and then told her I wanted an enema today. She was very gentle and reassuring and I actually liked it. She explained that it was to be kept private between me and her, not to be discussed with anyone else. She told me that she would give me an enema whenever I felt like I wanted one all I needed to do was ask, in private of course. So yes, it was easy for me to accept.

By time I was 8 or so I had already decided I liked getting a small enema with the red bulb. But like Cheryl77177 said, I had to walk the thin line between protesting just enough so mom wouldn't think I liked them, but not so much that I talked her out of giving me the enema I really wanted.

Yes I did! Seeing mom take them on the bathroom floor while I was on the toilet made me see that they ok. Also my sister received them from mom and I was witness to them also. Sis had a great love for enemas and always wanted them. By the time sh was 12 she also gave them to mom and I was 8 1/2 when she started to give to me.

I only had one Enama during my childhood, I remeber I fought my grandma all the way but ended up getting it anyway. Thanks to that one incident I ened up hating enemas to this day but enjoyed suppositories for some reason.

Like many others, I feared and dreaded enemas at first, and then began to enjoy them, and come up with some excuse to "need" one. Although in our household, I didn't have to invent many excuses, the warm, soapy enema was the first line of defense against any childhood discomfiture.

Nope, I never easily accepted getting one, but I always eventually complied. Resistance never worked one single time. Sometimes, if I knew that I was going to be getting one, I would just take off running. There were numerous times where I had to be found and retrieved from outside and brought back in the house kicking and a screaming. It was completely humiliating! Seriously, at the time that was the most horrifying thing ever. Just even thinking about it now wants go hide somewhere.

As I was given enemas from a young age, I grew to accept them without any fuss or argument. They were somewhat regular occurrences for me, typically Sunday evenings, so it was not unexpected when called into my mother's bedroom and the towel was already in place on the bed and the vaseline was on her night table.

As I posted earlier I hated those enemas when I was little. As soon as my mom would ask when I last went to the bathroom I knew where it would end. When she would announce that she was going to have to use the syringe on me if I didn't go soon, I would start to try to talk her out of it. I would promise her I would go if she would just give me a little more time and to please not get out the syringe. I was never able to talk her out of giving me an enema. She considered it her motherly duty to keep my bowels regular, and when she determined that I needed an enema nothing was going to stop her from using the syringe on me. No amount of begging or pleading was going to change her mind. Despite my protests she would take me into the bathroom and give me a thorough syringing with Ivory soapsuds to make my bowels move.

Since I was potty trained with enemas, I grew up thinking they were the normal thing to do. I was never traumatized by them so I never fussed or complained.

I was like you Allie if you read my post from before on this subject I was a real fighter had to be held down, when I was 10 yrs old started to be submissive but still gave Mom a hard time mostly with my mouth though. 😃

Since I thought NO ONE would be so weird as to like enemas, I always had to grudgingly tell my mom that I guessed that she was right in her statements that I needed an enema and she would fix one for me. (Secretly, I was overjoyed and relished those statements. I would lie and tell my mom I couldn't go whenever I was bedridden). Until coming to Zity, I thought no one in their right mind liked enemas and assumed I was kinda' "insane" to be one of those people.

I am sure early on I probably was fussy, but I didn' t get spanked. I just got the enemas anyway! Most of the time another sister was getting enemas before or after me so I was not alone! My great aunt also spent a lot of time with us and she helped mom give us enemas too.

The thought of resisting never crossed my mind!

Quickly accept the enema was less embarrassing than resist against the grandmother and her two housemaids. Besides my three brothers and my grandfather knew that i was going to take my enema.

Look brave is always better to be a coward. 😎

I would resist. Fight against the inevitable. I had to be held down and my "cheeks" spread apart on numerous occasions. Finally, resistance was futile; and I just learned to take them.

I tried to protest but always futile. Mom and grandmother were especially adamant, if you could see the water and chamomile in pot knew that my destiny had marked. For these reasons, I have learned to accept enema as befits a good girl, as did my mother and grandmother.

Yes, easily, no muss or fuss. I have only vague memories of mom giving me an enema or two in childhood, but I do remember thinking they felt interesting. She did lots of rectal temps on us as she was an RN, and I really liked those so I figured getting something a bit larger stuck up my rear should be fun, too. I was right!

Eric

One time when I was about 10, Mom said I needed a clean-out and I knew what that was in store for me. I put up a fuss about it and I then got 2 choices. Choice #1 was take the enema, period------ Choice #2 was take a spanking and then an enema. Didn't like either BUT after a few tears, #1 sounded better and I think that was about the time that the fights ended for good.

Yes...and after the first one I looked forward to them.....

For the most part I accepted receiving my daily enemas although as I entered puberty I was always nervous that mom or dad would see my penis even though I was on my left side with right leg raised. Maybe it was the fact that I started getting erections that made me nervous and thinking they might be aware I was enjoying the sensations because I knew I was gay. Years later and with help from this site I have learned that many people have had the same experiences and it's completely normal for men to enjoy prostate stimulation regardless of sexual orientation, in fact I have become very surprised in recent years to learn that many straight couples out there have anal toys for the men. Growing up I thought you had to be gay to enjoy anal stimuli because of what I had learned from society but now that being gay is more socially accepted there's a trend by straight men to openly discuss anal stimulation.

Being raised in north Texas, enemas were not discussed, just given, for a variety of ills. I did not put up a fuss. It wouldn't do any good, however, my brother never got the memo, he bucked and balked and screamed and hollered. He got the enema anyway.

I suppose this is a matter of DNA to some extent. Mine is more the accepting type of personality. Granted when smaller I cried, but that is a natural reaction. As I got a bit older, I would get quiet when called in for my enema, but there was no fussing or arguement. They were given with patience and care, so there was not any pain associated with them. It was something that was given to me regularly, so the routine or ritual became a part of life.

My mother although very profession like giving and talking about enemas after she told me I was getting my first enema age 11 she realized I liked getting them. Anytime I was ill or bed ridden she would quietly announce that I needed an enema, I was not sexually developed or mature at the time and would often see her naked as a child, Once watching her give a small child an enema was the start of my enema fetish .

There was never any question about it, I was ill or acting poorly and it was on my knees and not for praying. I also remember the closeness with my Mother, it was all she could do to keep the boat afloat with my sister and me. This was the Depression. --anyway, it was just another natural thing; we brush our teeth....clean out our ears, blow your nose, I knew that women douched, so like what's an enema. And the after-feeling was where it was AT!

That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

the boxcar

No, I felt humiliated and especially when others in my family gave them. It was a cure-all for everything.

The Ivory soap stung and I don't recall a rinse, just more bulb fulls of hot soapy water.

I don't know why I love them now, can't even bring myself to ask the psychologist who was helping me with my grief and depression.

I think it is cruel to a child. And sad to take away their self dignity.