physical enhancements

The Lovemaster


One of Rob’s favorite comics, Craig Shoemaker, has this bit he does called The Lovemaster. Being a better than average mimic, Rob has the voice and timing down pat, and I have to admit I love it when he goes into that Looovemaster voice. “I’m four inches, baby……most women don’t like it that wide.” or “I’m two inches, baby,…from the floor. I can stir your drink from over here. I’ll knock your front teeth out from up here, baby. Yeah, that’s me tapping you on the shoulder, baby. I’d show it to you, baby, but it’s stuck in my shoe.” Okay, it’s funnier with the voice, the sly smile and the bedroom eyes that Rob throws in just because he knows it makes me laugh harder, which is probably why he started reading his spam to me.

Have you ever heard this, “God! Your penis is so small!”?
Didn’t you feel stupid?
Don’t let girls prefer vibrator to you! Megadik will improve your situation once and forever! You should simply rely on this magic preparation!
“Oh! Your penis is so large!” Isn??t that what you just love to hear?
Soon you’ll be the only one girls will hunt for! Megadik is your real cure!

Thanks to the unquestionably annoying miracle of email forwards, my husband’s email address has been exposed to the world of penis spammers. A particularly vile, and probably very icky, group of people who prey upon male insecurity and entice them to part with their hard earned credit by purchasing all manner of enlarging devices and enhancement supplements. I can’t begin to explain, without permission anyway, how truly ironic that is on several levels. Nor have I any idea why any man with a working penis would jeopardize its functionality with untested medicinals and unproven devices. It’s not like women’s breasts after all. If a woman still has a viable top layer of epidermis over a set of pecs, tone doesn’t even matter, a good plastic surgeon can whip her up a serviceable pair of knockers in no time. But a penis is more complicated and, frankly, once it doesn’t work anymore a man is left with only a paltry, and rather sad, set of options. Still those penis people are out there wooing the weak, pitching their wares because apparently size does matter though I would venture to say that given the choice between an anaconda-like member just lying there across a man’s legs and an upright unit that’s ready to go, without the need of a hoist, most women would choose the latter.

Choose your size with Manster!
Finally you won’t be concerned with your size any more.
We have a new product that will make all your ‘se^xual desires real.
Forget what you’ve known before. The new era for you begins!
Women will go crazy!
Friends will be jealous!
And you will Finally your new life! Like a real man with a real penis!
Try MegaDik and take advantage of your new size!

But you gotta love the names these people come up with like Manster! Wonder what brain trust thought to congeal the images of man and monster in the same thought process. Did they worry at all that someone might think they were talking about a genetic melding of man and hamster? Or the felching images this might conjure, even? There is something I don’t quite understand here, however. How does size equate to pleasure? And is it more for her or for him? And does size really matter at all in drunken hook-up scenarios or when the whole “soul mate” issue is at stake? And how will a man’s friends know about the manster in his pants? Do men talk about dick size the way women trying to conceive discuss the color and consistency of their various secretions? Do they go shopping for Speedos together? If they do, they really ought to be giving each other more practical advice like “Dude, if you lost the muffin top the member might stand out more.” Finally, enhanced breasts don’t make a woman “real”. They just make her the chick with fake boobs. So wouldn’t a man just be a guy with a fake rod?

Women will never complain.

At last you will never worry about your size any more.
We have an offer that will make all your ‘se^xual wishes real.

There are many things sexual of which a woman might voice complaint, but size isn’t one that I have ever heard discussed unless it was to remark on over-endowment and ask for discomfort remedies. But as an example of a bad complaint, speediness is never good. Truthfully, a tad more foreplay and a working knowledge of the female anatomy would serve most men better than a pee-pee growth potion or whatever scary contraptions might arrive through the post in brown wrapping. Worrying about appearances is really the last thing anyone should be concerned about when clothes start coming off and juices are flowing. I don’t know how many articles in women’s magazines I have read that over and over reiterate the fact, one that men confirm by the way, that by the time they are naked with us, they really aren’t noticing much in terms of cellulite or rolls or wrinkles or anything else. While I admit that women aren’t that oblivious, we do not equate size with function. We equate function with function. It just needs to work. But, if a gentleman is really worried then merely demonstrating his understanding that the tongue is a multipurpose tool should save him an embarrassing credit card statement.

Bikinis and Me


I recently began deep water workouts again. I abandoned weight training in favor of a similar program about 8 or so years ago, and it proved to be a very effective program. Toning, strengthening and best of all it was in the water, my adopted second home at the time. Fast forward to now. I happily discovered that the local pool offered a deep water class twice a week for an hour. The upside is that it is as good a workout as I remember, and the downside is that it is from eight to nine in the evening. It’s not even five, and I am ready for a nap.

My current swim attire turned out to be unsuitable for water workouts, as I feared it would. Tankinis have a tendency to “fly up” in the water when you are aqua-sizing. Back in the day, I wore a two piece. I owned quite the assortment of bikinis, and I made good use of them. During the summer, I swam nearly everyday, and a bikini top was pretty standard for me under my t-shirt and sometimes without the tee at all if it was warm enough. When I mentioned to Rob that I owned several of these suits, he asked if I had been an exhibitionist. I never thought of myself that way then though I suppose, looking back, I was. Growing up I had been quite uncomfortable with skimpy because, as I have mentioned before, I was pretty hefty. When I reached thirty though, years of religious work out, including an avid love of running, had put me in the physical shape necessary, in my opinion, to carry off a two piece. However, pregnancy and years of care-taking pretty much wiped up my gains, both physically and confidence-wise. Though I am in actuality thinner than I was a decade or more ago, I am not nearly in as good a shape, but I needed a two piece to be able to work out sans annoying suit.

So yesterday, I trekked across Edmonton (by myself thank you very much) to the West Edmonton Mall. It’s fall here in Canada and the swim-wear is gone from the department stores, but there are plenty of specialty shops at West Ed because Canadians, as I have oft-mentioned, take their holidaying seriously. The Surfco shop was nothing but suits and the vast majority were really tiny bikinis. Sure they had one piece suits that would have worked, but I just can’t work out in them. They are too short=bodied for me. So, with the help of a very pretty and annoyingly thin shop girl, I picked out three suits that I hoped wouldn’t shatter all the confidence I had built up just for this occasion and into the dressing room I went.

The first suit was actually too big. It feels great to try something on and find that it is too big for you. That doesn’t happen often. Usually things fit but are too short or not the right design for my frame, but too big is always a treat. The next suit, I have to admit, I looked pretty darn good in for someone my age. I read recently that the actress Demi Moore has spent about a half million dollars on “upkeep’s and upgrades” for her body. She is a year older than I am, and looks better than both her teenage daughters, but she has the too-taunt facial expression that screams “botox” and a stomach too flat for a mother of three that plainly pronounces her a cheater because once you’ve given birth there is a certain curvature to the solar plexus that you will never be rid of regardless of how stringent your diet or vigorous your workout routine. Looking at myself in that light blue sting bikini, yes….it was a string bikini, I felt sorry for her. I looked great. No muffining over the stings. The bum cheeks didn’t have that stuff sausage look of trying to put too much flesh into to small of an area. Yeah, my stomach could be more flat and my thighs a shade thinner, but I am nearly forty-four. I’ve had a child and know the stress of long term care-taking. My arms and legs have seen a bit of sun, though no deliberate sun worshipping. I am not young and firm and impossibly thin though I am smaller than the average size American (and Canadian for that matter) woman.

However, I didn’t get the string bikini. Maybe if Rob had been shopping with me, I could have been (easily) persuaded, but my old prejudices and standards wouldn’t allow the purchase. Looking good for my age, doesn’t quite cut it with me even now. Last year I would watch the girls in the high school where I taught with a feeling that couldn’t decide if it was admiration or horror. They would strut proudly up and down the halls wearing clothes that were clearly designed with small and taunt in mind, not pudgy, paunchy and even quite overweight. When I was in high school, well…..I wore a uniform it was Catholic school, but girls of a certain size were barred from wearing “thin girl” outfits. And this was not just a social admonishment, it was by design. There wasn’t yet the financial incentive needed by clothes makers to cater and pander with lycra and spandex enticements.

Suit number three turned out to be the winner. And not by default. There is something about practical, functional and sexy rolled into one that takes a clothing purchase to the next level past shopping nirvana. It’s halter style made it good for actual use in the water, and it fit even better than the string one, although there is something about a string bikini that just says sexy in a way that no other suit truly does. For my part I am pleased to be back into a two piece. Believe it or not it is part of the reclaiming of myself process that has been going on for a long while. I modeled it for Rob later that evening and he pronounced it hot looking. Of course there is some bias there.