Don't ask me how I ran across (or acrost as they say in my old neighborhood of Redneckia) this amusing, then disturbing, then amusing again graph of common euphemisms and metaphors for lady pinky parts. This is valuable on both a literary and entertainment level, as it provides both adequate ideas for Halloween costumes ("What are you, a clam with a beard? I don't get it.") and awkward dialogue for a teen sex romp:
Okay in this game of strip spin the bottle poker, we'll all start out naked and you're playing for items of clothing. Kylie, as the bottle landed on you...
Kylie removes clothes with a sly smile. We see from the vantage point between her legs as she straddles the scene...
Oh Mother of All Souls....
MONTAGE over the Flaming Lips' Suddenly Everything Has Changed.
But I digress. For as much as I enjoy a good entendre-laced holiday or movie experience, it doesn't equal my love of and interest in genital-oriented beautification. Which brings us to Vagazzling. Not many people outside of Jennifer Love Hewitt's circle of friends had heard of vagazzling, and since the demise of Ghost Whisperer and the subsequent lack of caring by anyone in the media (Jennifer Love Who-it--get it?), no doubt vagazzling of the vajayjay would have remained in obscurity, if not for George Lopez.
Vagazzling, aka Glitzing the Slit, aka Glamming the Clam, aka Decking the Halls With Rows of Jewelry, is barely invasive, unlike its less appealing and pricklier cousin, clitoral piercing (and the prick is quite clitoral, as opposed to Daily Kos' assessment of Dennis Kucinich). The basic feature is a genital area that, like the gold fields of San Francisco or Silvio Berlusconi's bordellos, sparkles and shines from rows of tiny jewelry carefully placed into sexy patterns by a vagazzling expert craftperson.
Is it just me, or is this the best thing to happen to the female sex organ since cautionary tales of vagina dentata put the fear of castration upon men who are superstitious about what monster awaited their bedtime frolicking? The new bejeweled woman won't bite. Instead of teeth, we are presented with Swarovski-crystals--jewels covering the jewel, little shiny flowers surrounding The Flower of Power. Nothing to fear here.
Vagazzling highlights the basic differences between men and women. Men have tools. Women have accessories. Which they then accessorize. It's hard to imagine penazzling becoming a rage, though if it did it'd probably look and feel like a tiny--I mean, average--I mean, it's a grower-not-a-shower--medieval mace.
Vagazzling is a welcome mat on the doorstep of the wealthy slut, but I see it, like all celebrity-endorsed clam glam makeovers, trickling down to the lowly and the poor, giving women of all socio-economic strata their own nectar-hole upgrades. After it gets used up by Perez Hilton, we'll see the artistic surge of literary vulva-va-va-voom, Eve Ensler style. From art comes commerce: we'll see vagazzling vending machines next to Best Buy kiosks in airports, lady muffin decor huts next to the sunglass place at local strip malls, and eventually it will pass into the cultural norm, like anal bleaching and voting for Tea Party candidates.
Ladies may balk at what first appears to be a disturbing outbreak of glittering herpes, but if the Lovester covets the femme gems, why shouldn't you?