Sunday, February 13, 2000
Pill's promise, naturally, a come-on to men
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Have you heard the ad? It's all over radio. The first time I heard it, I was at the YMCA, making the shirts fit better. I nearly dropped a dumbbell on my foot.
“Take this pill and grow bigger breasts,” it says. Or some such. “Take this pill, gain two cup sizes.”
Take this pill, you will morph into Catherine Zeta-Jones. Next to you, Dolly Parton will look like Olive Oyl. Men will worship you, women will envy you, you won't be able to see your feet. As God is your witness, you'll never be hungry again.
The ad is for an “all natural” supplement. It promises women who take it that they will grow larger breasts. What a thing. It's as easy as A-B-C cup. Whom do you call? 1-800-PAMELA?
This is great news. For men.
Men like women in Spandex and things that blow up. Men like wet women wearing thongs.
Men endure the subtly nuanced writing and bravura performances in Baywatch knowing that eventually the payoff will come and they'll see wet women wearing thongs. Men tune in a Baywatch rerun hoping, nay, praying, for Gena Lee Nolin to . . . bend over.
Men never flipped on 90210 thinking, “Oh, look. This is the episode where Tiffany-Amber Thiessen does her finest acting.”
Men will take the remote at 1 in the morning and spend hours flipping through channels seeking female breasts. This is a fact. It is not in dispute.
Remember the Springsteen tune, “57 Channels (And Nothin' On)”? Bruce, babe, that's the point.
It's lame, I know. But it is what it is. I'm just being honest. We can't help ourselves.
This pill was not invented for women. Most women I know think that men who dwell on women's breasts need therapeutic care. Nope, these pills are taken by women, for the benefit of men.
We appreciate it.
In the interest of good journalism, I called the company that makes the pill. (Also, I was hoping a little pub might land me a free three-month supply.)
“How does a pill grow breasts?”
A woman named Dorothy Lane answered the phone at Dazzle Inc., in Clarksdale, Miss. She said once the pill enters the system, it causes “receptors” in the breasts to stimulate the mammary glands, allowing healthy new tissue to grow. Or something.
Sounds good to me.
Dorothy listed the ingredients: Wheat, barley, rye, saw palmetto, blessed thistle, wall yams extract, corn powder, European hops and Vitamins E and B.
What is it, beer?
“After two months, she'll start noticing a firming,” Dorothy said. “Within three months, she'll have an extra half a cup, maybe a little more.”
“How long before she's Kim Basinger?” I asked.
“After six months, she'll have added two cup sizes,” Dorothy promised.
Here's the catch: You have to take 10 pills a day. At that rate, you'd fail a field sobriety test.
Here's another: A two-month supply is $395, and from what my new friend Dorothy says, two months gets you from Twiggy to David Bowie. Three months is $695. The full, six-month, 10-year-old-to-Demi-Moore-on-the-cover-of-Vanity-Fair monty is $900.
But look at it like this: It's more useful than a Thighmaster. (Really, who was Suzanne Somers trying to kid with that, anyway? Sooz didn't get famous because we liked her in culottes.)
And you could probably get your significant male to swing for half of it. OK, all of it.
As for me, hey, my wife has a birthday coming up. “Uh, hon,” I wondered, “have you seen the cordless phone?”
Paul Daugherty, an Enquirer sports columnist, writes a lifestyle column on Sunday. He welcomes your comments at 768-8454.
