Me, being the frugal shopper that I am, browsed around to see if there was anything else I couldn't "live without" that would push my purchase price into the free shipping category.
I hate to pay for shipping if I don't have to.
I quickly flipped through a page in the "health" section and a big red "Whhaaaa?" lit up in my head.
To a product that is called the "Myself Pelvic Muscle Trainer".
Traditionally in the past, women's magazines and the Total Woman Handbook (foisted on us at puberty by the period-fairy along with perfumed douches, a secret handshake and a "welcome to the club" speech which included a gift basket full of embarrassment in regards to our natural bodily functions) brought us information about Kegels.
Squinch and release. Squinch and release.
Theoretically, if you do this every day, ultimately you'll have a crotch of steel.
It's like a secret Superpower just for women.
Women can do Kegels while we're driving the Hummer (getting our girl on!) or watching TV. We can do them on the sidelines at soccer games or while singing in the choir.
Next time a man is chairing a meeting and being particularly pompous, patriarchal or pedantic (believe me, some of those dinosours are still around), look at the women in the room.
If they appear to be especially serene (not bored or irritated) they're probably thinking, "Yeah, Buddy. One flex and I could rip your dick off."
That's why I'm wondering-why-oh-why-somebody came up with a gadget when none is really required? And what exactly does it do?
Evidently, the "Myself" measures how strong your vaginal squeeze is.
Yes. You heard it right.
You have to stick an inflatable (and disposable---you can buy replacements for 9.99) sensor UP INTO YOUR GIRLY PARTS to measure your strength when you squinch! Then the information goes from the sensor to a handheld monitor which shows you your crotchety progress with a smiley face or something like that.
Yikes! And well, YIKES!
On top of the revolting squickiness, this gadget kind of reminds me of a BowLingual---the dog language translator that was a popular gift item a few years ago.
The "Myself" tells you WHEN to squinch and release. As if your squinch timing is a precise, complicated, scientific calculation. Doh!
Additionally, it trains you through 3 different strength levels.
Level 1: Wet dishrag (big sad frowny with a teardrop face)
Level 2: Cracking Walnuts (lavicious eye wink face)
Level 3: Breaking Brass Bolts* (your choice of Gene Simmons, Colin Ferrell or generic Himbo screaming in agony face)
Seriously, this must be some kind of joke---a way to "squeeze" out 79+ bucks on a Superpower any woman can develop for free. Pun intended.
Why buy a "Myself" for something I can do...well...by myself?
Anybody else see the irony in that?
Somewhere the person behind this is laughing maniacally all the way to the bank.
*With Apologies to The Fugs