Sitting around idly on my day off, my eye chances upon the box of Chinese relaxation balls a friend got for me. The theory is that by rolling them around in your hand, you are soothed by both the perpetual motion and the charming little chimes inside. "Hmmm, sounds awfully like Ben Wa balls," says I to myself, and decide to investigate this matter further.
"They're awfully large," I observe, "but that ought to make them that much more enjoyable, right? In addition, this provides a splendid opportunity to improve my Kegels and please the Lotus Blossom of my Heart when he returns from school." Without further ado, I take one of the balls and position it right quick, taking no heed of the chilly wind of fate that flows through me--I blame it on the understandably-clammy metallic nature of the ball.
One determined push and it slides in. "Victory!" I cry.
But then I notice that the ball has continued sliding and is now serenely rested up against my cervix. "Oh shit!" I cry.
Suddenly the ingenious nature of my dilemma appears before my eyes. I was intending to use this ball to strengthen my muscles, which are not currently strong enough to expel foreign devices on their own. Believe me, I try. And I was excited about the large size of the ball because it fills me up completely. Therefore, I have little to no room to stick anything ELSE in there to remove it. I try that, too. Oh shit, indeed.
Not to downplay my suffering, let's just say it's a very harrowing couple of minutes before I relax enough to squeeze a finger around it and wedge the damned thing out.
Moral of the story: moral? In one of Quint's threads? You gotta be kidding!
"They're awfully large," I observe, "but that ought to make them that much more enjoyable, right? In addition, this provides a splendid opportunity to improve my Kegels and please the Lotus Blossom of my Heart when he returns from school." Without further ado, I take one of the balls and position it right quick, taking no heed of the chilly wind of fate that flows through me--I blame it on the understandably-clammy metallic nature of the ball.
One determined push and it slides in. "Victory!" I cry.
But then I notice that the ball has continued sliding and is now serenely rested up against my cervix. "Oh shit!" I cry.
Suddenly the ingenious nature of my dilemma appears before my eyes. I was intending to use this ball to strengthen my muscles, which are not currently strong enough to expel foreign devices on their own. Believe me, I try. And I was excited about the large size of the ball because it fills me up completely. Therefore, I have little to no room to stick anything ELSE in there to remove it. I try that, too. Oh shit, indeed.
Not to downplay my suffering, let's just say it's a very harrowing couple of minutes before I relax enough to squeeze a finger around it and wedge the damned thing out.
Moral of the story: moral? In one of Quint's threads? You gotta be kidding!
Never made that mistake twice.
