A virgin, colonic experience
Exercising the trust happiness muscle with strangers…
Before…
Yesterday, as I was dropping off my suit pants to be dry cleaned to get the chewing gum off the ass area — an unwanted addition that came from sitting on a bench at Wynyard train station — I spotted a detox business. Given I have been feeling particularly unhealthy in the last week, I was motivated to respond to a billboard advertisement for colon hydrotherapy. I went online, found a Groupon, and made an appointment for today at 3:30 pm. Now I’m anxious about the prospect of a stranger shoving a tube up my ass and I can’t think of a better day to exercise trust of myself and others.
After…
So it’s two days post colonic, and I’m reflecting on the body invasion that happened on Thursday. As I lay in the bed-cum-toilet, with a stranger explaining that eight gallons of water would be pumped into my lower intestine, and that I needed to hold it in for fifteen seconds before releasing it below the bed — I was scared. The colonic therapist explained I could watch what came out through a three inch, clear plastic tube, in the reflection of a perfectly positioned mirror. My first thought was this is not natural. My next thought was what if I hold it too long and my guts explode and I die of internal bleeding?