my nerves are bad to-night

Male bodied folk have the dubious benefit of external genitalia, flopping forth and front for the world to see in every locker room and public bathroom across the globe. By adulthood, most men have seen enough dick to know how they measure up against normal folk and porn stars alike. Like it or not, if you have a weird penis, you’re probably going to know.

But not the ladies. No, even in the most nude of the nonsexual naked times, women walk around with their genitals tucked sweetly between their legs, nestled away from prying eyes. Betwixt the thighs of every woman lurks a vulva as unique as her fingerprints. With nothing to compare herself too, she begins to wonder. To assume the worst. To fret that she is excessive, ugly, smelly, weird, wrong, too dark, too light, too fleshy, too soft, too much.

And one day she Googles “designer vagina”.

Cue flashing dollar signs.

Thanks to the carefully crafted copy on the soothing-yet-demonic genital cosmetic surgery websites, she is suddenly stricken with the panicked realization that she is, indeed, the owner of a grotesque downstairs smile. Her vagina is weird. Obviously, her worst fear is true: all of her childhood masturbation definitely made her vulva asymmetrical and that one year spell of regular deep dicking back in college unquestionably made her love tunnel looser than dead turkey neck. The baited trap – that if she Googled, it must be true – is set in the cache of before and after pictures.

These pictures confirm that she is the owner of a crotch disaster because all of the women in the before pictures are totally, 100% anatomically normal. That’s the advertising genius. The ‘before’ snatches may be biological perfection but the vulnerability inherent in simply Googling “designer vagina” belies such deep physical insecurities that the merest whiff of confirmation sends these women fist first into their bank accounts. The women who Google simply don’t notice that the before shots are normal because they are so afraid.

Afraid of what, though? Of being unique? Of being displeasing? Of their own genitalia?

The natural extension of cosmetic surgery from its bread and butter, our human billboards (faces, breasts, asses) to our deepest, darkest crevices is brilliant. Everyone knows how their nose compares to other people’s. Only people who eat pussy know what real world pussy really looks like.

Please note how this form of advertisement capitalizes on the golden pairing: a legitimate lack of knowledge and borderline disastrous body dysmorphia. With no normal to compare to and a deep seated fear of all things weird and Lovecraftian, doctors can elegantly swoop in and ply their trade. There, there, I know it’s hard to accept that you have a squirrelly and unattractive vulva but the good doctor is here to slice up your bits and make you a star.  read more

ART: [unknown]