A Reddit tale in the mostly mortifying "Today I F*cked Up" subreddit revolves around an enema, a hot car, and a very, very uncomfortable man. An enema is an intestinal cleanse, in case you're lucky enough not to know. You shoot some water into your butt to—quoting enemabag.com here—"stimulate peristalsis throughout the full length of the colon."

This translates roughly to: it makes you poop. If you have a question about how to use an enema, follow this helpful guide: Do. Not. Guess.


This is what happens when you guess at enema best practices.

This happened a few years ago. Took a vacation to Nicaragua and ate a ton of unpasteurized cheese (a free traditional breakfast was available every morning at the hotel, and I was travelling on a budget). I was relying on my usually bulletproof stomach to see me safely to shore, and, for a time, everything seemed fine.

Not the exact cheese, but would probably have a similar effect.

After I got back, I slowly realized that it had been quite a while since my last poo. Took some laxatives, which only made me much more uncomfortable. After almost a week, I was getting desperate, so I ran by Walgreens and bought a disposable enema.

Here's where I fucked up, although I didn't realize it at the time. I bought the enema on my lunch break and left it in the car until I got off of work. It was about 100 degrees outside that day. When I got home I noticed that the enema felt pretty hot to the touch, but, thanks to incredibly flawed reasoning, I deduced that the closer the saline was to 100 degrees (my internal body temperature) the more comfortable it would be. I got into the tub (in case of spillage), inserted the pre-lubricated nozzle, and gave the bulb a firm squeeze. It was at this exact moment that I realized the unfathomable degree to which I had fucked up. It felt like I had inserted a fire hose full of microwaved lava into my bowels. Like the grown-ass man that I am, I screamed at a frequency audible only to bats, thrashed around like a spider on a skillet, and fell over into the tub. The silver lining is that it cured my constipation with extreme agency. I shat out a week's worth of hot saline and Nicaraguan cheese poops, the force of the expulsion causing me to rotate slowly in the bottom of the tub like a rocket with a bent nozzle.

After it was all over, I felt like I had re-enacted the suppository scene from Trainspotting with my entire body. My bootyhole (and regions beyond) hurt considerably for a day or two, although I was too relieved to be able to poop again to care. Also, I had to throw the shower curtain and an extremely unfortunate loofah away.

TL;DR: Hot enema ≠ comfortable enema