I'm not going to say that my mom is a prude...well...yes, okay. My mom is a prude. I am fifteen years old and she still calls my breasts and vagina "ninnies" and "hoohah" like she is afraid that if I hear the word vagina or breast, I will instantly become pregnant. She will turn the TV off at the slightest hint of a sexual suggestion. She will talk all day long about Micheal's bowel movements, but say the word "hump" and you will be treated to gasps and sputters and all manner of other ridiculousness.
That is why our trip to the chiropractor last week was so awesome. My youngest brother Micheal will not drink water. He will also not eat any fruit other than bananas. The result is that he can't poop. This is why mom will talk all day about his bowel movements. The solution to this seems to be regular trips to the chiropractor. Mom tells Micheal that the chiropractor has a magic poop button that he pushes down on to make him go. Micheal is fascinated with this.
As we sat around the waiting area in fancy ergonomic chairs, Micheal began telling the other patients about the poop button. I think he thinks that every one in the waiting area was there to have their poop button pressed. Thank God the chiropractor finally called us back. My mom asked if I wanted to come back to the little room or stay out here with the other patients, but I was too embarrassed to stay. So mom, Micheal, Thomas and I all squeezed in the tiny room where Dr. Jason does his adjustments.
Dr. Jason always looks like he just got home from the beach, even though we don't live anywhere near one. He is tall, tan, and muscular. He wears tight fitting t-shirts that show off his arms. At first, when mom told me that the family was going to start seeing a chiropractor, I was hesitant. Now that I have seen him, I don't mind at all. Mom seems oblivious. She wouldn't notice a handsome man if he reached out and pinched her. I would actually pay money to see that.
I placed my self down in another fancy ergonomic chair an watched Micheal climb on to the adjusting table. Mom began to talk at length and in detail about his bowl movement schedule over the past 8 days. Micheal just kept saying "poop" over and over again.
Then Dr. Jason said, "You know, if this is becoming such a regular problem, I can teach you to do this yourself so you don't have to come in here so much." Clearly Dr. Jason was as sick of my family as I was.
Dr. Jason lifted up the back of Micheal's shirt. He felt around for a bit and then said, "Here, do you feel this?" Mom placed her fingers on a spot on Micheal's lower back, just above his butt. "All you have to do is push on that spot really hard" he said. "Here, I'll show you."
At this point he came in behind my mom and put both of his hands on her hips. My mom was facing me and I could see her eyes get huge and round. Dr. Jason began pushing on the lower part of her back so hard that mom had to put both hands on the adjustment table to steady herself. Then Dr. Jason said, "All you have to do is feel for that spot and then come in back here with a strong THRUST!" Mom's lips became as thin as a pen and her eyes clamped shut, but Dr. Jason didn't stop. He kept pushing and saying things like, "Just ram it in there" and "Make sure you give it a really hard thrust!"
Mom's eyes were still closed, but I could see her mouth the words, "Oh my Lord in heaven!" Her face had turned bright red and she looked as though she might pass out. I was biting my fist to keep from laughing.
When Dr. Jason finally finished bending my mother over his table, he looked as though he was satisfied at his complete and thorough explanation of the poop button. Mom looked as though she had just completed filming a scene from 50 Shades of Gray right in front of her children. I was still biting my lip and shaking from the effort to control my laughter.
When we got back in the car, mom dropped her purse and reached in to the glove compartment where she hides her cigarettes. Normally she doesn't smoke in front of us. Normally she won't even admit that she does smoke, but she pulled out her Camel Filter, stuck it between her lips and lit. Mom took a deep drag and exhaled. Then she put the key in the ignition to start the car. The whole car ride home I would randomly yell out things like, "THRUST" and "Ram it in there," and she would fumble and the car would swerve and then she would give me dark looks. When we pulled in to the driveway of our house, mom announced that we would be finding a different chiropractor.
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