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The Development Of My Own Constipation

Categories: Colon Cleansing
Sources: How And When To Be Your Own Doctor

The history of my own constipation, though it especially relates to

a very rustic childhood, is typical of many people. I was also

raised on a very constipating diet which consisted largely of

processed cheese and crackers. Mine was accelerated by shyness,

amplified by lack of comfortable facilities.

I spent my early years on the Canadian prairies, where everybody had

an outhouse. The fancy modern version
are frequently seen on

construction sites. These are chemical toilets, quiet different than

the ones I was raised with because somebody or something

mysteriously comes along, empties them and installs toilet paper.

The ones I'm familiar with quickly developed a bad-smelling steaming

mound in the center--or it was winter when the outhouse was so cold

that everything froze almost before it hit the ground in the hole

below. (And my rear end seemed to almost freeze to the seat!) The

toilet paper was usually an out of season issue of Eatons mail order

catalogue with crisp glossy paper. Perhaps it is a peculiarity of

the north country, but at night there are always monsters lurking

along the path to the outhouse, and darkness comes early and stays


When nature called and it was daylight, and there was no blizzard

outside, the outhouse received a visit from me. If on the other

hand, when it was dark (we had no electricity), and there was a cold

wind creating huge banks of snow, I would 'just skip it,' because

the alternative--an indoor chamber pot, white enamel with a lid--was

worse. This potty had to be used more or less publicly because the

bedrooms were shared and there was no indoor bathroom. I was always

very modest about my private parts and private functions, and

potty's were only used in emergencies, and usually with considerable

embarrassment. No one ever explained to me that it was not good for

me to retain fecal matter, and I never thought about it unless my

movements became so hard that it was painful to eliminate.

Later in life, I continued this pattern of putting off bowel

movements, even though outhouses and potties were a thing of the

past. As a young adult I could always think of something more

interesting to do than sitting on a pot, besides it was messy and

sometimes accompanied by embarrassing sound effects which were

definitely not romantic if I was in the company of a young man.

During two pregnancies the tendency to constipation was aggravated

by the weight of the fetus resting on an already sluggish bowel, and

the discomfort of straining to pass my first hard bowel movement

after childbirth with a torn perineum I won't forget.