Iron, balls.

Coming home on the bus today I saw a woman opened her newly purchased box of Winsor Pilates bits and pieces. I’ve seen the Winsor Pilates infomercial enough to be immune to its seductive call. It’s just another workout video and like most of the fitness-related infomercials it has the fine print that acknowledges that you have to stop eating shit to get the killer abs in the infomercial.

What it comes down to, what they never show in the infomercials, is that you will be required to get down on the floor in front of your TV and wave your arms and legs around. You will need to do this every day, even on the days when you don’t feel like doing it. And that while you can lose weight and tone your muscles, you’ll never look as hot as Daisy Fuentes does in the infomercial.

Pumping iron is much more fun.

At the gym this morning I was reading a women’s magazine while I was warming up on the treadmill. I flicked past the usual latest celebrity styles, how to get five different looks from one shirt, why anorexia is really bad, etc. Suddenly one page caught my attention.

It was the sex advice page and was doing one of those “how to please your man” things. There a quote from the text had been pulled out. It read, “When my partner is about to come, I squeeze his balls.” I almost fell off the treadmill.

Come on, partners don’t get their balls squeezed. Boyfriends do.

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