Yesterday Jezebel, that girl we keep trying to befriend on the playground, posted a video of editor Tracie "Slut Machine" Egan, object of Scanner Brian's affection, getting a colonic. While entertaining, it really just made us nostalgic for the time we had a tube up our ass in the name of journalistic integrity. Unfortunately, the story caused our father to refuse to read anything we've written since; probably that whole "my ass had finally lost its virginity" line.
Anyway, Scanner Emily's colonic irrigation story, including all the juicy details, after the jump. But as Perez Hilton would say, don't click if you're easily offended (by poop stories or by our formerly poor writing skills).
A Trip to the Gym for Your Colon: Emily Farris Investigates
Published in 10003 Magazine, Volume 1 No. 1
April/May 2004
The newest trend in total well-being isn’t a religion or a diet; it’s a tube up the ass. But while the craze may be new among celebrities and socialites, the practice dates back to 1500 B.C. Colonics is the trendy moniker for a procedure better known as colon hydrotherapy or colonic irrigation. The earliest recorded colon irrigations were used to flush disease and fever from the body; they have evolved into an expensive form of ass maintenance. “Like a trip to the gym for your colon,” colon therapist Cher Carden said.
Apparently, what goes in doesn’t always come out. According to Cher, over time mucus, toxins and parasites form a wall of impacted debris in the colon that can cause a build up of toxicity. This build up can slow down what should be smooth, speedy shits. Advocates claim colonics can relieve the symptoms of a toxic bowel, including bad breath, abdominal weight gain, fatigue, headaches, backaches and allergies.
A colonic is an enema times ten. An enema usually involves a small amount of water or coffee flushed into the rectum to relieve constipation or speed the pooping process for people who need to clear the area for something else. A colonic can involve up to 20 gallons of water, the entire length of a large intestine, an abdominal massage and a hefty price tag. Colonics are used to remove fecal matter from the colon, in other words, loosen and flush stagnant poop from the large intestine.
Many in the medical profession advise against colonics, warning deadly side effects. In a December 2000 article (www.ncahf.org/articles/c-d/colonic.html) released by the National Council Against Health Fraud, William T. Jarvis PhD wrote, “The hazards include illness and death by contamination of colonics equipment and death by electrolyte depletion. In addition to the physiological upsets, colonic apparatus can also perforate the intestinal wall leading to septicemia (bacterial contamination of the blood), a very serious disorder.”
In the name of journalistic integrity, armed with approval from my chiropractor and the knowledge that many doctors are against all forms of alternative medicine, I decided to make an appointment with Cher at La Casa Day Spa. It was an experience I shall not soon forget.
When I stepped into the spa, just north of Union Square, I felt like I was in a grandmother’s condo in Florida. The air was warm and moist. The walls were salmon-colored. Plastic flowers surrounded wicker furniture. I figured the conspicuous lazy boy was for post-colonic recovery.
After filling out some quick paperwork, I changed into a hospital gown (open in the back, of course) and was led into the colonics studio. I was a little freaked out by the machine in the corner. It looked like a plastic grandfather clock. Cher assured me it was just a closet to house the tubes and drain. No motors, I promise. Once I relaxed enough to let her insert the speculum, I felt slightly violated—not by Cher, but by the fact that something was entering what was once an exit only (save the pink suppositories my mom used to store in the fridge and torture me with when I was a kid). My ass had officially lost its virginity. And what followed was no quickie.
I couldn’t quite tell what was going in or out until she started to adjust the water temperature and I felt something I can only describe as minty fresh. “Is that the cold?” I asked Cher. As she nodded, the warm water began to fill my large intestine. I felt like I was about to have explosive diarrhea all over her table—the kind of diarrhea you have run to the bathroom on the third floor of the house for, because you cant be anywhere near another human being. I wanted so badly to rip that tube from my ass and make a mad dash for the familiar comfort of a toilet, but there I was on a table in a salon, in a hospital gown with a big plastic tube in my butt, having my stomach massaged (to expedite the mass exodus).
After what Cher called a “large release” (of what, exactly, Im not sure) I felt much better—like I had taken that shit I had to run to the third floor for. This cycle was repeated a few times, and though each release felt damn good, it was never as good as the first time.
The speculum came out much smoother than it went in, and after she wiped the lubricant from my cheeks, I finally headed for the toilet. Nothing much came out, just some leftover water and what looked like carrot and lettuce bits—from my salad the night before, I’m sure.
I didn’t need the lazy boy, after all. There was no post-colonic pain or discomfort. However, I was really disappointed I couldn’t see what came out of me when it was all over. For the sake of fresh air everything goes through the tube and straight down a drain. But I would have gladly traded the smell for just one look.
She did tell me what she saw: some vegetables, coffee, and a few big chunks. She could also tell Id had alcohol that week. Overall, though, my colon was pretty clean. Cher recommended I cut back on my coffee intake (which lasted for about a day after the treatment) and chew my food better.
That night, I pooed a small amount of some yellowish goo. I didn’t shit again for another 24 hours. I’ve had less gas since the treatment and I’ve noticed the diameter of my poop has increased a bit. Maybe it doesn’t get compressed because “the wall of toxic debris” is gone. Maybe my poo is finally free to be the poo it was meant to be.
La Casa recommends a series of up to eight treatments to fully cleanse the colon, and then seasonal colonics to keep the pipes clear. “Like a spring cleaning for your colon,” Cher said. Colonics are also recommended before a colonoscopy (probably for the sake of the doctor that has to put the camera up there) and after a long fast. A one-hour colonic at La Casa is $75, and they offer discounts for pre-paid treatments.
Put a pig in a dress, and its still a pig. Put a tube up your ass and give it a fancy name, its still a tube up your ass. I don’t think Id ever go for another colonic irrigation, at least not on my own penny, but I would recommend it if for nothing else, the experience.
La Casa Day Spa
41 E. 20th Street
(bet. Park Avenue So. & Bway), 2nd Floor
New York, NY 10003
212-673-2272
www.lacasaspa.com
[Image of a colonscope via]
