If you ever wonder if the world is getting stupider, all you have to do is look at the warning labels on practically anything you own and you’ll have your answer. Like yesterday when I was using my prescription dry scalp shampoo (which I need because the only way I can keep warm during the months of December through March is by taking showers in water hot enough to sterilize surgical instruments) and I happened to notice a very disturbing notation on the bottle:
Warning: Not for Transvaginal Use
Now, at first I was puzzled. I stood in the shower, letting the scalding water caress my skin like an angry CIA agent, and I tried to figure out what “transvaginal” meant. Is there some kind of freeway or railroad that crosses the Vaginal Mountains, I wondered? The Vaginosis Mountains? The Prairies of Vag? You know, like the Trans-Siberian railroad crosses Russia? And if that’s the case, why couldn’t the prescription dry scalp shampoo be used on this road? Does it lose efficacy in high altitudes? Explode at high speeds? Pose a national security risk to America’s borders? And what about the poor souls with itchy heads who were on a long road trip across Vagi Canyon? What the hell were they supposed to do? Take the transpenile route instead? And exactly how long is that route, anyway? Because yes, it matters.
(Oh, man. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with me today, but I guess I sort of have to see this through now.) (Please don’t unsubscribe.)
But then, as I stepped out of the shower looking like a female lobster gone to seed, I remembered where I’d heard the word “transvaginal” before. No, not in a women’s health class. Or in a woman’s magazine. I heard it during the 2012 elections when “transvaginal probe” became a super trendy buzz word among certain lawmakers. I think they were trying to make it a law that women had to get one before dental cleanings or something? Or when they applied for a driver’s license? I’m not entirely sure because I tend to black out whenever 70-year-old white guys start talking about my nether regions. I’m sure you understand. They probably black out when I talk about probing them, too.
Which brings us to my “Aha!” moment: I finally realized that the reason that warning is on my bottle of prescription dry scalp shampoo is because some poor dumb schmuck tried to use it in a place that’s pretty far south of a dry scalp. Pretty. Far. South. God only knows what that freak was doing in the shower to keep warm. Probably something gross involving loofahs. At any rate, I’m guessing the whole thing ended in a big old lawsuit and now we have to have warning labels to keep us safe in the shower.
And on all of our transvaginal roadtrips.
(Please don’t unsubscribe.)
And in an effort to redeem myself after the above, here’s a funny video I made with fellow beauty blogger Shari Simpson: