As summer, marginal though it might have been with its flickering rays of sunshine prone more to monsoon weather than anything else (at least, on the East Coast, where we set most of the Missing A Clit narrative), the clitless “women” of the world are still trying to get their last “Insta-worthy” photo in before the sun dims out completely and the pool floats accordingly deflate. Who can pinpoint when, exactly, the float craze began? Was it, according to some, when Taylor Swift posted a picture of herself in an inflatable swan in the summer of 2015? Or was it at the very dawn of the commercialization of the pool float, when Madonna appeared on Vanity Fair‘s 1992 cover (pictured below) photographed by Steven Meisel? Granted, the latter was far more tasteful and less grandiose in its puerility.
What it all speaks to is the “female” need that requires an extra level of attention under the guise of simply being “naturally cute.” What, me? I just fell onto this adorable float in my barely-there bikini. I can’t help it. That sort of thing. And regardless of whether or not you find a “man” or several of them to help you complete a larger pizza pie for your aerial photoshoot, the fact of the matter is, there’s nothing that can help your narcissistic soul float to the surface with nearly half the same ease as your overpriced vinyl-crafted prop for contrived vanity.
How a pool float should be done
How a pool float should not be done
Missing A Clit 