Thanks, but I Don't Need a Bigger Penis

This is what I was greeted with upon checking my e-mail this morning:

"Small member? Order male enhancement meds today"

"Women want you to have a bigger tool"

And finally, the one that made me cringe slightly:

"Add 4-6 inches to your pen1s in 6 weeks!"

4-6 inches? ...In 6 weeks? What?!

So I asked myself: "Self? Do you really want to be toting around a 10-12 inch man-handle everywhere you go, in addition to having to explain to potential lovers that you are a freak of nature and that you might actually rupture their spleen during lovemaking?"

I considered the question. Long and hard.

And um...no. I don't feel like having to roll my penis into a coil just so I can fit into my pants. I really don't feel like dealing with the stares from awestruck onlookers in the locker room, and I *really* don't feel like enduring the inevitable pain of my poor boy branch banging against my knees when I go for a run.

In an ideal world, my penis would magically appear when it's time to be used. At all other times maybe it would hide in a secret sheath somewhere, so I don't have to awkwardly adjust myself on airplane seats or when crossing my legs. But...that's just not reality.

Far from it.

Women won't ever know the joys of having to constantly port around their externally mounted reproductive bits. In fact, they get to wear things like yoga pants and 'boy shorts' without ever having to worry about their 'twig and berries' getting CRUSHED.

Count your blessings, ladies.

And don't give me this BS about having to deal with boobs. Those things are made mostly of fat. They don't contain hypersensitive nodules thick with nerves that run into your gut. In fact, they secrete milk sometimes. It's like you have a fucking SNACK BAR on your chest.

In summary, no, spam e-mail senders. I'm quite happy with my modestly apportioned package and I don't wish to become even more miserable than whatever merciless god created me to be.