I learned something new yesterday, and as you know, I am all about the new. I love a bit of cutting edge nonsense to marvel at, particularly if it seems completely loopy, and especially if Gwyneth Paltrow has endorsed it.
Many years ago now, Emma over at Belgian Waffle exhorted me to subscribe to Gwyneth’s lifestyle e-mail witterings: ‘Goop’ – for the craic. For some reason, I was probably weak with hunger, I succumbed to her exhortations and signed up. Since then, Gwyneth has been filling my e-mail inbox with wonder on a monthly basis.
Quite often, like when she delivers a paean to the marvellous interior designers who helped her to come up with an all white on white scheme with white accents for her forty foot square music room, and suggests we might want to think about doing something similar, I feel like hitting her over the head with a white on white designer shovel which has been previously blessed by the Dalai Lama. Gwyneth that is, not Emma.
But every now and again there is a thing of wonder. Yesterday, on Twitter, the subject of a brand new fashion for steaming your vagina was bandied about. I was intrigued, and slightly alarmed. I did more research on this matter, because as we know from yesterday’s post, I am the patron saint of the vagina this week and every week. Not only am I the proud owner of my own vagina, but I have always been in awe of the things people do to them. Remember this post about the great vajazzalations of 2010?
Apparently, steaming the lady garden parts is called the V-Steam. It involves infra red beams and mugwort steam which causes you to have a massive boost in energy and a deep and satisfying cleanse of your undercarriage. It can balance your hormones, make your vulva look perky, and rotisserie a chicken. It can also strip off any old wallpapering mistakes in preparation for plastering and a new coat of paint in this season’s must have colours.
As with the birth of the vajazzling craze, it seems largely based in California. Gwyneth recommends we pop to the Tikkun Spa in Santa Monica if we have time. Their treatment is the absolute best in the business. Everyone who is anyone in the world of squeaky clean vaginas goes to the Tikkun Spa. You can spot them because they’re the ones walking all funny and falling over when everything tightens up until you’re forced to bend over.
I worry about chafing, myself. Gwyneth doesn’t mention this, but if you’re over visiting her music room, do pop to the bathroom and see if there’s a massive tub of Vaseline in the cupboard. It wouldn’t surprise me.
It might amaze you to know that there is little to no medical evidence to prove that steaming your pudenda does anything for you other than relieving you of $75, and giving you raging thrush, which itches like the fire ants of Hades and makes you want to go and plunge your red, and throbbing foof into the nearest snow drift for a bit of relief.
If this has not put you off, and you believe that having the mimsy of a twelve year old is going to revolutionise your life and have you gambolling around like a spring lamb, here are my thoughts as to home steaming.
When I have blocked sinuses, I often steam my face by pouring boiling water into an old plastic mixing bowl, dropping in a teaspoon of Vicks Vaporub and then sitting over said bowl with a towel draped atop me to create a steam bath effect. After several, eye watering minutes, this has the sinuses streaming beautifully, and has the added benefit of giving me a eucalyptus facial whether I want it or not.
You could employ this method for your vaginal steam. I would not recommend using Vicks Vaporub unless you think your ovaries are blocked. In which case, have at it, but it’s probably best to stay indoors for a few days afterwards in case all your eggs fall out onto the pavement, poached and smelling faintly of eucalyptus.
I would also urge caution due to the fact that any steam based facial I have ever endured has had the inevitable and unwelcome after effect of giving me spots, due to its detoxifying effects on the pores. It would not be at all the thing if you woke up two days after a particularly glorious chuff steaming, where you have been vaginally reborn, as it were, only to find that 48 hours was your lot, and now you are in the midst of the difficult teenage years where you lady garden sulks, sleeps too much and listens to Leonard Cohen records for fourteen hours a day.
My final recommendation is not to crouch over the kettle, although this would be a nifty way of fitting a steaming into your busy day, multi-tasking while making the tea at breakfast. If you’re like me, and your crouching days are long gone, you might find you wobble rather, and you really don’t want to be going to the Casualty Department of your local hospital with the imprint of a Tefal kettle welded into your arse cheeks and the spout where the sun doesn’t shine.
You’d have to cover up the scarring with Swarovski Crystals afterwards, and as we know, they’re so 2010.