Ok, folks. Here we go. I don’t know what’s going to be more graphic about this post. The fact that I actually have to type the word “pantiliner” (cringe) or the fact that I have to subject you to a pair of boobies that are inflated to bursting capacity with the excruciatingly awful headline: “Would you like to have them like this? I’ll pay for them!”
Lord, have mercy on my soul.
This is NOT what I wanted to see as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes this morning and opened this brand new box of feminine end-of-monthly-cycle (also known in Italy mysteriously as “my things” – le mie cose) protection product.
Now, this brings to mind how I could probably write an entire post questioning the etymology of why menstruation in Italian is referred to as “my things” and how it’s possible that a woman can simply say Mi sono arrivate as in, “They’ve come to me” and that is like some weird code phrase that really means “I have my period.” However, I will leave that for another titillating future adventure. Because, no. Today I really want to ask my faithful public how it is possible that Velluto Salvaslip (Velvet? Really? Who was the marketing genius that green-lighted that brand name, BTW?) is running a sweepstakes in which the lucky winner will receive €6,000 for their “new look” a.k.a. as listed in the ad “breasts – butt – nose – lips – tummy”
HOLY EFFING SHIT, people. I mean, pardon my French, but are you effing kidding me? Wow. I didn’t know that we had reached this level of terrifying superficiality around here. No, seriously. The blood is running cold in my veins.
“Just send in 3 barcodes to participate in the drawing.*”
*see complete rules at www. sweetwipes. com
OHMYGOD. What’s worse? The fact that I have to read through rules about a plastic surgery sweepstakes? Or the gag factor inherent in the fact that there’s a website out there called SWEET WIPES DOT COM?
Oh Mary mother of God, pray for our sins.
I’ll try to type in sweetwipes.com without breaking into a fit of uncontrollable creepy laughter. Ok…I’m going in. Cover me.
No, no, a million times NO! Why didja have to go and show a half nekkid buxom woman with yellow dotted lines drawn on her plastically modified body?
“Would you like to have a body like this? I’ll pay for it!”
Oh, look! On the website they helpfully add that you could also have your hips or eyes “remodeled.”
In the fine print it says if you don’t opt for the plastic surgery you could use the €6,000 in “beauty treatments.” Whatever that might mean. Frankly I don’t have the patience or the inclination to read through the entire downloadable PDF file of contest rules and regulations.
Let me just leave you with this, incidentally, that I found while browsing vintage ads today, which happens to be one of my many Internet
time-wasters hobbies. (I graduated with a degree in advertising. Yes, they issue those.) Lest we forget that the stick-thin body wasn’t always the ideal of beauty, check out this post that reveals how vintage ads encouraged weight gain and curvy figures.
But: sweet wipes.
Seriously, folks. You think you’ve seen it all, and then you get a website called sweetwipes.com.