The World As Mare Sees It...
You'll Never Believe What I Did This Time... 2004-09-26










I'd been talking about doing it, although joking about it would be more accurate

I never thought it would actually happen because I'd never heard of anyone doing it except very beautiful people who work in Hollywood and have contracts that say no full-frontal, but half a nipple is fine.

And as much as I may hold a cigarette like a movie star, my delusions of grandeur had never been so expanded that I think I can have my ass cleaned like one, too.

Poppets, I had my colon irrigated.

(For those who've noticed a slight deviation in tone on this piece of real estate lately... yeah, you better hold onto your hats. I just had my ass roto-rootered and you're going to read all about it.)

I'd really like to claim that it was the idea of a thorough detoxification that turned me onto the idea of a colonic massage, but let's be honest here. I'm no healthy-shmelthy-beardie-wierdie. I wouldn't know an organic vegetable if it landed in my salad. I saw this episode of Faking It, and they were trying to create a male model out of your basic... well, silk purse, sow's ear... you get the picture. Anyway, after diet and exercise and more diet and even more exercise, the Faking It model experts decided that if the sow's ear in question got his colon irrigated, it would probably make him lose a couple of inches around the middle.

Hello! Sign me up! Where's the hose?

However, as I imagined that something that miraculous had to merit a movie star salary, I threw out the idea along with my back copies of People.

But then... but then... in a rather serendipitous manner, information about the procedure kept appearing, and through no real effort on my part, I started to learn more and more about it. This brings us to last Saturday, when I finally picked up the phone and made the appointment.

People, never have I had a conversation with a stranger where the word 'stool' was used so many times. (In fact, unless you count the time I had a tussle at a bar with this skinny trollop who had the temerity to steal my seat, I don't think I've ever had to use the word stool in a conversation.) I knew that my world was going all pear-shaped when I asked the nice gentleman on the phone about the "point of insertion" and the amount of discomfort I could expect.

Sidebar: For the record, the sphincter, my friends, is designed to push. I knew I wasn't imagining it when I said my ass rejects the thong. Although, after the colonic, I will reconsider up-sizing and trying again. They're not supposed to ride that high are they?

Right. So. This is what it's all about:

First, a nice lady who shuns Western medicine makes you lie on one of those slanty sit-up bench things, so you're head is lower than knees. Then she lifts your shirt, squirts some baby-oil, and massages your stomach to 'get things moving'. As you're all stretched out, with your arms over your head, you thankfully don't have too many issues with the fact that she has a great body and you generally feel like a mattress tied in the middle. However, as they've told you to not eat for two hours prior, and her skilled Colon Therapist Hands are hitting all the bingo spots, while still very relaxing, you quickly get a trapped gas sensation, and the need to release starts to make red spots appear before your eyes.

Just before humiliation fumigates the place though, she helps you up, asks you to disrobe from the waist down and hands you a towel to wrap around yourself.

Let it be noted that the girl is so professional, and your dignity is so very respected that you'll never be embarrassed. Even when you're wearing nothing but a towel around your waist and a hose up your butt, you'll still be cool as a cucumber.

So then, Jane Colon gets you up on a table and holds up a giant silver thing that looks like a cross between the metal spray control on the end of a garden hose, and a hydraulic lift. Then there's some tubing on one side for the water to go in, and considerably larger - and disconcertingly more see-through - tubing on the other side, which is for the water and... other, previously impacted... matter to come out.

Finally, she gets you in a semi-fetal position on your side, does some deft movements under the towel, and the part of your body that's designed to 'push' definitely loses that particular argument.

The deal has been closed, my beauties. A warm flush of what will be the beginning of about 35 gallons of water is released inside, and the words 'suck it up' take on a whole new meaning for you.

And all is fine at this point. I wouldn't say things are peachy what with the giant hose in your bum, but you know, there are worst ways to spend an hour. There's even a mirror over head, and it occurs to you that you finally have time to do nothing but stare at yourself, and admire the way your hair shines in this light and-

"I'm just going to do a tie-off now", Jane Colon suddenly says. She then explains that she's going to cut off the flow of water coming out, while still allowing the water to go in, which could only mean -

"Let me know when the pressure gets too much, ok?" Jane says.

"Oh my God! Is now too soon?" you ask, about 6 heart-breaking seconds later.

The tie-off is released, and suddenly you feel like you're going through a mildly crampy case of diarrhea. Your forehead breaks out in a sweat, and you kind of want to grab onto the sheets, and you suddenly start to believe very strongly in the power of prayer, because it's only an Almighty Power that can ensure that Jane has very steady hands and won't release hold of the tube which now has what is probably 15-year old formerly impacted fecal matter very obviously passing through it. I have got to get more fiber into my diet.

Jane will repeat this little process several times throughout the hour, as well as making you feel embarrassingly squashy when she starts to apply hand pressure to your alarmingly lax abdominal fleshy bits.

But then she'll tell you you're doing a great job, and she'll tell you to do some deep breathing and she'll explain the importance of ridding yourself of these toxins from your poor, beleaguered body. She'll tell you the benefits of maintaining a strong colon that isn't weighted down by a history of unwise food combinations. And her soothing words and the sight of the tube flow will make you want to go home and eat nothing but green vegetable for the next three months.

A day later, and I still can't believe I did something so bizarre as having my colon irrigated, but amazingly, when I hopped off that table (tubeless, thank all that is holy), I felt like there was less of a mass, if that makes sense. I suppose the best way to explain it is by comparing it to a couple of sessions with a chiropractor. Eventually, your back has less tension, more ease of movement. Less mass. And that's how my whole midsection felt.

I'm obviously going through something here. I'm smoking a lot less, I'm actually eating better by choice and not out of Weight Watching guilt, and last week, I went on the treadmill a lot!

I'm obviously going through something because that would be the only way to explain to you that I'm going back for another round next week.

Was this a little TMI?

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Ain't love grand? - 2010-07-26
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Same old same old (arse) - 2010-02-16

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