*disclaimer: not for the weak of stomach*

You may have heard this line spill out of my mouth a few times by now, but I feel as if today was the first day of my life.  I do.  I really, really do!  After months, no. . . years of hesitation and apprehension,  I finally forced my fingers against the buttons on the outdated 80's-ish business phone and dialed the spa to make my appointment.  As the dialtone quickly switched to a slow, steady ring, my heart began to race -  I eagerly awaited the woman's voice who would answer on the other end of the line.  A familiar giggle from Amber welcomed my appointment request, while assuring me of what an incredible experience I was about to embark on. 

Because my initial inclination to finally make this overly procrastinated call was in order to shed a few pounds before going home for Passover, I eagerly scheduled for the next day.  This was probably a good idea considering my incessant capriciousness - especially when it comes to unusual decisions like this one. 

I arrived on time, a little anxious, but more excited than anything.  After stepping into the serene atmosphere of the day spa that I had already become quite accustomed to, I began to question both the technician who would be performing the procedure on me, as well as my usual aesthetician.  They were both extremely positive, sharing great anecdotes about their previous colonic, or shall I say, ahem, "colon hydrotherapy" experiences, and it certainly didn't take long to get me totally pumped up - no pun intended.

Before I could turn around three times and say "Shit Nuggets", I was being gently ushered into the - - - colonic room of doom where I saw a strange bed-like contraption with a large butt-rest and hole.  I silently panicked about mounting this thing, and even more, about the idea of this sweet, innocent little Russian woman inserting this hard, straw-like tube into my ass. 

To add to my confusion, she gathered a few supplies, which included a rubber glove, a ketchup packet of lube and this interesting clear tube- still in the plastic wrap.  She put them on the bed and began to explain the details of the process.

First, I was to remove my panties, if I happened to be wearing any that day, obviously.  Next, I was to put on the glove, rip open the "ketchup packet" of lubricant and, as she put it, "lube up [my] anus", gently slide down onto the clear tube (which is now attached to the machine - sticking out of the are right above the butt rest) until it's about three inches up my ass and then gently rest all of these articles to the side so she could properly dispose of them.  Simple enough?!

I followed the directions to a T and, while a bit uncomfortable, I shouted to let her know I was ready to move forward.  She came in, turned the water hose on and told me I would soon begin to feel slight pressure in my abdominal area.  After asking me to release some water, she immediately noticed my discomfort with that idea, and explained that while it might feel like the tube will come out from too much movement, you virtually can't do enough to push it out.  After experimenting with this some - which basically consisted of practicing holding it all in and then contracting my anus open and closed- I finally got the hang of it and realized that I could push as hard as I wanted to without worries of dislodging that little diddie!

She placed some warm blankets on me, handed me a book, on colon health, coincidentally, or not so coincidentally, and fled the scene.  I was now on my own to hydro-therapize my colon and undoubtedly had plenty of time to delve into this absolutely fascinating read.

After a few minutes of getting used to these new, strange sensations, I became quite accustomed to the occasional gush of water that would flow out of my ass every few minutes.  This I was now prepared for - what was to come, I wasn't.  Before I knew it, there were larger, harder chunks making their way out with all of the rest of the debris.  At first, I found this a bit disconcerting, but soon began to quite enjoy the louder "plops" onto the plastic colonic machine.  While they weren't painful at all, the only association I could make in my head involved weight loss with those rock-hard masses, which was obviously a positive association for me!

Before I knew it, I was in love.  I had never experienced a more gratifying shit in my life!  No large bowel movement, no matter how long awaited it might be, could compare to this.  I began eagerly awaiting the passing of any and all fecal matter, and while the technician came to check in every few minutes, I found myself getting anxious each time that this could be the last. 

To my dismay, the final check-in did occur.  She turned off the water, that had so gently pumped into my ass for the past hour, and told me to try and push any leftover water out, pick myself up, wipe my ass and get on with my day.  Even after experiencing just how relaxing and simple this whole process was, I questioned whether dismounting, wiping and driving home might be more difficult than she made it sound.   I worried that I would continue to have the urge to push these watery, and chunky, substances out of my ass, even while driving.

To make a long story short, I was wrong. She was right. I put myself together, and embarked upon a beautiful evening. Nothing special, just a post-colonic high to which nothing can compare.

While buzzing through my morning workout the next day, all I can think about is tonight's colonic adventure . . . five more to go . . .