My Vagina Is On a Diet, And It Would Appreciate It If You Stopped Offering It Cake

Apparently, my vagina is hungry for more than mere man flesh, and according to the Internet, my honey pot's cravings for chocolate and Cheetos means that I am no longer desirable down there. All my life, I've been reasonably satisfied with my wahoo. I mean, I never entered it into a beauty pageant or anything, but the last time I checked, it seemed adequate. Fortunately, Pinterest sensed I was being naive about my corpulent copulater and remedied the situation by suggesting that I read the health article, "How to Lose Weight in the Pubic Area." Mind. Blown. Without that news

GramGram's Got a Cooter...

I desperately wish my headline had misplaced an "S" and that my grandmother had discovered a scooter rather than a working vagina. But I'm not that lucky. And neither, apparently, are a few men that I don't even want to pretend exist. The moral (or lack thereof) of this post is that Nana's naughty. It's a truth I don't want to acknowledge. Ever. At all. In any measure or degree. But I promised y'all the unadulterated truth (a pun you'll appreciate by this post's end), and I'm going to give it to you (which is ostensibly a phrase with which