Good vibrations

If you’re related to me, stop reading right now. Really. I’ll write something funny that you can read later, but if you read this, you’ll just be embarrassed.

(Okay, if you’re my sister, you can read it. One, you’ll think it’s funny. Two, you’ve had your appendix and gallbladder removed within two weeks of each other and you deserve a little break.)

So this is today’s post:

For years, I’ve listened to vibrator talk. All (okay, most) of my friends love to discuss vibrators. I’ve listened, I’ve giggled, but I’ve never been remotely interested in shopping for or owning a vibrator.

All (okay, most) of my friends find that completely unacceptable. They think it’s bad enough I am a Sunday school and preschool teacher; they think I am the most repressed person on the planet because I don’t own (and have no interest in owning) a vibrator.

That ended yesterday. With an intervention, of sorts.

With a friend, with whom I was supposed to be having a nice wholesome lunch, who showed up with a bag, a twinkle in her eyes and a "Happy New Year!"

I opened the plain bag.

I took off the tissue paper.

And I said, "Wow, thanks! I've been dying for one of these!"

She looked at me quizzically. "You have?"

Me: I’ve really needed an immersion blender!

She rolled her eyes like I had been clinically diagnosed as a moron.

Friend: It’s a VIBRATOR, you idiot.

Me: What? Not a kitchen tool? Really?

Friend, patiently: No. It’s not a kitchen tool. It’s not to help you make smoothies. You need a vibrator, not a blender.

Me: Oh. Ewww. I don’t. I’m busy. I barely have time to snack on unhealthy food. No time for this.

Friend: Seriously? Five minutes and two AA batteries. You don’t know what you’re missing.

Me: Please. It’s just stupid. Look at this package. "Waterproof for bathtime fun." Who the hell is going to put an electric device in the bathtub? That’s idiotic.

Friend: It’s battery operated, not electric. Stop being uptight. Take a bath with it.

Me: And be the person who gets electrocuted trying to use a vibrator in the bathtub? No way. No way in hell.

Friend: Fine. Chicken. Keep it in your glove compartment.

Me (dumbfounded): Oh. My. God. Are you so A.D.D. that you can’t sit at a red light without a little entertainment? I’ve never heard of such a thing.

Friend shakes her head.

Friend: Really. Right before you pick the kids up from school, you’ve got five minutes, so you...you know. If you listen carefully, I’ll bet you hear a steady buzz in the neighborhood at that time. Being a stay-at-home mom DOES have its perks, you know.

Me (sighing): Is it time for lunch?

Friend (clearly resigned): You make me sad.

So fast forward to this morning. I woke up next to my husband, in our king-sized bed. I stretched. I yawned.

I noted that my shoulders were sore, so I asked my husband to rub them.

Then I had an "A ha!" moment. And I pulled out my new toy.

I turned it on.

"See? It vibrates. Use this on my shoulders."

He looked at me intently for a minute, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Sorry, my sexually liberated friends. I know I am a disappointment to you.

But my shoulders? They feel GREAT.