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In 1989 I was like every other insecure freshman at Georgetown University. I was like everyone else, except that every few hours I had to sneak off to issue myself a medical enema. Needless to say, this did little to boost my self-esteem.
I faced this plight because I had ulcerative colitis. I’ll spare you the detailed symptoms, except to say that they greatly resembled what you’d expect after drinking murky tap water at a very cheap Mexican motel.
Luckily, though, my situation changed dramatically that year after I stumbled onto an elective: yoga. (READ MORE)
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