My distrust of Carmen Electra and the products she endorses

The title alone is a mockery of me. Of all celebrities to put your faith in: Sally Field for Boniva, Diddy for Proactiv, that old tired woman for the Sleep Number Bed, I pick Carmen Electra and her cursed stripper pole.

I had the best intentions. This wasn't some attempt to keep a boyfriend or begin a career to finance my higher learning. This all came about for the new year and weeks later after a comment about my belly fat. I was crunching away on pretzels and cream cheese, minding my own damn business. "You know that's basically all fat, right?" a friend of sorts asked, her large hazel eyes filled with pseudo concern. "It's because she's pregnant." a co worker commented justly so with his Miller Lite baby about to explode out of his work shirt like an Alien offspring.
"I mean, you know where it's all going to go. You carry most of your weight in your belly." How I love people and their unwarranted comments on my body. Can't get enough. However, it was what I claimed I needed to get myself motivated to work out. When you're skinny and always will be but need to get toned, you make small talk with others about weight and when you even mention weight loss and yourself in the same sentence you get "What are you talking about?! Have you looked at yourself? You're fine the way you are." So, you eat. Then you wake up and realize that while you are skinny a one piece bathing suit would probably be more flattering than a more daring two piece number.
I cut back on my portions even more than usual. I planned to run, do yoga, and purchase the stripper pole I'd been vying for since I slid my first dollar into a garter. I researched poles and decided that I could go the recession conscious way and get the $130 pole in the pretty pink and black box with Carmen Electra splattered across it. I power walked through the mall recalling the comments made thinking on the boys I gave to the past tense and how they'd kick themselves when they saw me again. "You only live once" I said to the check out guy after he told all sales were final. "Whatcha got there?" a tall snowy featured man asked with daughter in tow. I gave him a flirty eye and smile "Oh nothin'".
This morning after five minutes of easy toil according to the instructional DVD, I'd be swinging my way to a rocking body minus the extra baggage I've acquired. "Maybe you can resell it on ebay." my male assistant said. Looking at me with those damn boyish cognac eyes. If I weren't so embittered I might have been charmed. Instead I was overcome with disappointment and buyer's remorse. Clearly stated on the back of the box not covered with Carmen Electra's cosmetically altered and Photoshopped body and also not in bold and jazzy pink writing were the words of my undoing. The pole was made for ceilings not exceeding 8 feet and 6 inches. The nine foot ceilings in my apartment made the pole unusable and potentially unsafe. Such items can't be returned for obvious reasons no matter how many times you tell the cashier you swear on your gene pool that no bodily fluid of yours even looked at the pole. I can only blame myself I guess for making a hasty purchase, but I can still give the stink eye to Carmen Electra and all things she stands for.
If you are in the market for a stripper pole no matter what your intentions may be, look for one that costs more than $100 as you will be attempting George of the Jungle type moves. Average costs I've seen range between $230 and $400 and some even have attachments if you have vaulted ceilings. One company in particular boasts to have been featured on Oprah and if there is anyone you can trust...