I-B-S. Three letters that can change a bottom's life.

For me, the Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) diagnosis came as I entered my mid-twenties, a time when I should be in my prime as a hungry bottom. Before this development – I could eat an entire pasta bake, then chug a choccie-milkshake and still bottom like an absolute champ.

Then I experienced what was possibly my greatest existential crisis to date.

I awoke one morning, after enjoying a delectable threesome the night before, with severe stomach cramps. I could hardly stand up straight. After shuffling around all morning at a 90-degree angle, I decided that I should do something about it. So, as a very experienced hypochondriac, I googled symptoms of severe stomach cramp.

After scrolling through pages and pages of WebMD, I deduced I either had one of three things: bowel cancer (which I have a family history of), chlamydia or gonorrhoea.

Considering how saucy my night before was, I was certain that it was either of the latter two. With my professional opinion in hand, off I trotted to my doctor, where I requested a full sexual health screening and a colonoscopy to check for signs of bowel cancer.

My doctor met this request with raised eyebrows, explaining that bowel cancer was only common in men over 50 and, as I was less than half that age, that that would not be necessary. I also got a schooling on the "often-symptomless" symptoms of chlamydia and gonorrhoea and explained that considering the symptoms I did have were more "being stabbed repeatedly in the stomach" and less "mayonnaise in the pants", that these were also highly unlikely.

Nevertheless, I persisted, and got my full sexual health screening.

Finally, the results came back - negative on all fronts. Yet, I was still walking around at a 90-degree angle, feeling like my stomach was being torn out every time I stood up.

After three weeks of affecting my best Hans Moleman impersonation (see Simpsons ref.), three really unsuccessful bottoming experiences, sleepless nights and all-round discomfort, I took myself back to my doctor, slumped in his chair and begged him to help me.

14 blood tests later for the whole gamut of tummy-related tribulations (Chron’s, Coeliac etc.) and still nothing came up.

I left with my tail between my legs and feeling deflated (a stark contrast to my bloated tum).

Was I destined for Tophood for the rest of my life?!

I was wracked with misery, disdain and horniness over not having my "needs" satisfied in almost three months. Was it my new PrEP prescription giving me side effects? What could possibly be causing these traumatic tingles in my tum?!

While I was out of town for work, things took a turn whilst in the middle of a business meeting, and I had to suddenly excuse myself and rush to the nearest A&E. After 40 mins and a lot of poking, prodding (albeit, by a very handsome doctor) and some further tests, he informed me that I had IBS, likely as a result of gluten and dairy intolerance.

SO, I HAVE TO GIVE UP CHEESE AND PASTA for SEX?!

Well, yes.

Maybe it was time to stop chowing down on pasta, bread and brie and start focussing on a gluten-free me? I can assure you, it was totally worth it!

However, bottoming while living with a condition like IBS still has its challenges. Although I am on daily medication to help minimise the cramps and symptoms of IBS, whilst also removing dairy and gluten from my diet, the flora and fauna in my tum still require delicate attention - particularly when it comes to preparing for the subtle art of bottoming. 

I used to think a really thorough douche (approx. 1.5 hrs) would ensure that my bowel was fully flushed, so I could ride a cock with confidence. This seemed to work for a time, but doing a deep-dive with the douche water inside my intestinal tract ended up just further upsetting the equilibrium of my gut, which I had worked so hard to maintain.

I experimented with different sizes of douche and combined douching with taking supplements such as Imodium to help bung myself up (I do not recommend this method, as it can cause severe discomfort for days afterward).

Finally, I fell upon a method made famous by Coco Chanel - "simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance".

This “less is more” technique is performed by making sure my bowel is empty before douching, and then giving a light spritz to my rectal passage (the part of the body which comes just before the bowel/lower intestine - as you enter the butthole), approx 1 hr before sex.

I spritz this area a few times until the water runs clear and then finish off with a finger test (always making sure that I douche/finger test with plenty of lube - nobody wants a fissure!).

The aptly-named "Coco Chanel Douching technique" allows me to bottom comfortably and confidently, whilst reducing the time it takes to prepare for sex. And with no crampy side effects, it keeps me and my sexual partners satisfied.

Different things work for different people. If you are in your early-to-mid twenties and recently diagnosed, you can take comfort in the fact that you aren't necessarily condemned to a life of topping – you just have to figure out what works best for you to keep you safe and comfortable!

Try the Coco Chanel method, and if it's not for you, I'm sure you could find yourself something that works - perhaps try a Joan Crawford or Elizabeth Taylor method instead? The wonderful thing is - you get to decide!

Happy douching, beauties!

xx

Trutha Minnelli