A young woman told me about Yoni Eggs this morning.
I know what the word yoni refers to, but I had never heard of Yoni Eggs.
Of course I wasn’t imagining eggs you could fry, boil or eat raw or anything.
Women put Yoni Eggs up their vaginas in order to heal. Heal from what? From any experience that estranged them from themselves. Perhaps through sexual violence, but not necessarily.
I have met quite a few people who believe stones have power.
There are two stones under my pillow. A gift by my mother who thinks they will protect me against nightmares. (They don’t)
My son has recently relocated them. Meaning they are stuck under the bed somewhere. (Is that why they aren’t effective?)
It’s easy to make fun of these Yoni Eggs. In post-covid times it will certainly be tempting to start wondering if a lady at a party may have Yoni Eggs up her, well, Yoni while you are talking to her.
You know what my first thought was when I saw a picture of Yoni Eggs?
It wasn’t Oh, this is crazy or messed up or whatever.
It was:
Why am I not the kind of person MARKETING and SELLING this stuff?
Man, if I ever run out of other opportunities I might consider opening up some super esoteric shop that attracts the most hippie-ish females. There aren’t many shops like that in Bratislava.
I am being quite serious.
The lady who brought this up did so in the context of her telling me about how she had been raped.
Anything harmless that can help you process a traumatic process like that should never be mocked.
I don’t really believe in it myself, but I am convinced that those who do believe in it can derive some comfort and emotional balm from them.
They look nice, I must say.
It also made me realize all the people who are currently in my life – except for the young lady who told me about this – are too frigging normal.
I asked myself whom I could gift a pair of Yoni Eggs to. Especially with it being Easter time and all and the answer is nobody.
At present I am not connected to any woman who would be thrilled to experiment with Yoni Eggs.
That’s sad.
I like people who steer clear of the beaten track.
The young lady in question is not Slovak, of course.