I’m a sucker for pretty things. I bought headband cat ears because they’re glittery, took a free shelf I didn’t have space for because it’s shabby chic, and once saved a bottle cap necklace for two years just because of all the sparkles. So when 19-year-old me saw pretty glass balls with delicate flowers in the center, I bought them. And then put them in my vagina.
Kegel exercises are meant to strengthen the pelvic floor and can be useful for incontinence or loss of muscle tone after childbirth or pelvic trauma. Kegel balls are meant to help people with vaginas better feel and pinpoint the muscles that need to be activated during these exercises, and apparently, they’re supposed to increase the strength and intensity of your orgasms, too. They’re pretty commonplace at this point… I mean, Target sells them for Pete’s sake. (Related: Please read the product description on the Target page. Can you possibly guess which book it refers to? Like… just read it.)
The lady at the sex shop in college said that I could put them in and get constant stimulation as long as they were in and practically guaranteed me an orgasm that night if I tried them out. Not only was this not true, but these little glass babies didn’t have that handy retrieval string that seems to be popular. And then I couldn’t get them out of my vagina.
You guys. I didn’t know what I was doing. I lost not one, but two glass balls inside of my vagina. I totally panicked! One came out pretty easily, but the second one… I was convinced I would die with it still inside me. My then-boyfriend said he would fish it out for me, but I have a chronically narrow pelvis, which made vaginal toy mining difficult.
I squatted over the bathroom floor like an awkward duck trying to lay her first egg, practically fisting myself in an attempt to find the glass escapee. My balance was poor and my reach was short, and after tipping over into the cabinetry one too many times, I gave up on that tactic. I tried bearing down like they tell people giving birth to do on TV. It didn’t work. I guess kegel balls are smaller than infants.
I came to terms with the fact that I would carry this small glass sphere in my vaginal canal for the rest of my life. It would travel with me on vacations, accompany me to work events. We would learn how to coexist, like a newly-cohabiting couple. I decided I would need to name it in order to connect and bond with it– to keep it safe, like a mother hen protects her chicks.
As with all things, I just needed to find my fucking chill. The next time I sat down to pee, I heard a plink. All it took was some relaxation and my travel companion took the first train out of Vaginatown. And that’s the story of that time I lost a ball in my vagina.
Seriously though, don’t put stuff in your vagina that you can’t get out. Don’t use those jade egg things, don’t use porous materials, don’t trust a salesperson who guarantees you an orgasm.