Today I got a colonic irrigation.
It was both repulsive and absolutely fascinating.
Certain aspects of it were, of course, familiar to me, while other aspects were new and different. I am used to having phallic objects (and sometimes phalluses themselves) inserted in my body, for example, but usually it’s men who do the inserting. If you had told me even this morning—this was a spur of the moment decision—that I would be paying a woman to shove what was essentially a dildo up my ass, I would have mocked you mercilessly.
But you would have gotten the last laugh.
I asked her how long she had been doing this. “Two years,” she said. “Before that I was a corrections officer.”
I can’t even begin to frame all the scenarios one might envision.
She said that colon hydrotherapy was her destiny. I think—my rational mind doubts that she actually said this, because what sane person could, but it’s what I’m remembering—that she said she had been called to be a colon hydrotherapist.
On my way out, she gave me a badly photocopied handout about colon health. It contained things like blurry photographs of unhealthy colons and (annotated) essays by people writing in the Snake Handler Style—you know, commas missing, eccentric capitalizations, that sort of thing. I quote:
“Our greatest enemy to health is constipation! I have No Cure For Constipation! . . . I think the toilet is the most abominable device ever invented in our civilization. We find that the Indians never had any rectal troubles; they had no hemorrhoid troubles whatsoever. Why? They squatted to defecate.” Portions of the text were underlined. Next to the underlined portions, someone had written things like “EVERY YEAR AMERICANS SPEND OVER 800 MILLION DOLLARS ON LAXATIVES. WOW! FRIENDS, THAT IS A LOT OF CONSTIPATION!”
But she had a really fabulous hat, so I’m going back.
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