If you arrived here on the great wave of Brexit postings you may want to pop off and get yourself a cup of tea about now. If you’re one of the Boo Street Irregulars, ears up, paws up, because we’re going full Gwyneth.
I got a message from my friend Kaz on my Facebook feed today. It said: ‘Gwyneth does it again!’ As you can imagine, it was like cat nip to me. I have never quite got over the time Gwyneth suggested that the best way for a woman to care for her vagina is to steam clean it.
Now apparently it is all about the jade eggs.
Ho yes. If you want your pudendal parts in tip top condition, MOT’d, valeted and ready for the spring/summer 2017 collection, you need to whap a couple of jade eggs up your foof and clack about for a few days with them in situ. It’s the only thing worth doing for the modern vagina – appaz.
As I read this article I began to realise why Gwyneth and Chris Martin had to have a conscious uncoupling. It was clearly because he was never going to get within forty feet of her fanny ever again due to the fact that she’s constantly got something in it, on it or up it and none of those things are Chris Martin’s knob. He might be a curly haired, boy faced muso with all the money in the world, but it’s no substitute for a roll in the organic hay with the missis. At least not one without fear of having your penis shrunk in a steamer or trapped between two lumps of egg shaped jade at the moment of climax.
It explains a lot about his pre split anguished song writing, and his move to euphoric pop musings once he’d found himself someone who didn’t want him to put his knob through a jet wash and then spiralize it before going near them.
To return to the issue of the eggs. They are, according to Goop, which as we know is the fount of all vagina based wisdom, going to do so much more than make you walk about sounding like a wind chime in a washing machine. They are going to turn your pelvic floor into something akin to an over-sprung trampoline and allow you to squeeze anything you care to stick into it into jelly. I would say a penis, but in Gwyneth’s case it’s more likely to be Voldemort’s Elder Wand or The Lost Cities of Gold.
Why would you want this? I mean, as a woman who has to be careful how vigorously she sneezes these days, I appreciate a certain spring in the pelvic muscles is a good thing, but how tight do they have to be? Do we want to strangle a python every time we hiccup? And what about the bounce? Nobody needs to be bouncing around the contents of a hair trigger pelvic area with gay abandon. In any direction.
Regardless of my misgivings, Gwyneth is not deterred. Not only does clacking around with your eggs a rumbling’ tighten those muscles until you no longer fear that everyone will know that you’re wandering around with jade eggs up your snatch because they’ve fallen out onto your foot and rolled across the floor, it also does marvels for your vaginal energy flow.
Yes indeed. Your vagina based chakra/energy centres will be like the deck of the Starship Enterprise on full Klingon alert, every damn day. You could shoot laser beams from your fanny. You could literally have someone’s eye out with that thing, energetically speaking. Imagine.
Who wouldn’t want that happening in their pants?