“Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”

They used to be firm and perky, but now they are droopy like the cartoon dog by the same name.

They look like two bungee jumpers who went down but never came back up. They look like two limp bodies hanging from a noose. They look like the knuckles of a gorilla as he walks erect. God did the yo-yo trick “walking the dog” with them, but never called them back home. Basically they are sagging like a full diaper. 

The dreaded sag and I’m not talking about boobs or pants here people! I’m talking about balls, and I don’t mean the kind you bounce (ouch).  Sorry for being so crass but there’s no nice way to put it, my boys are swinging low like the pendulum on a clock. Go to take your underwear off and get your nut sack twisted up in them. Don't act like I'm the only one. The "downside" to getting “up” there in age.

As a result of this said “saggage” I almost did the unthinkable. I just about slammed my balls in the toilet seat when I was going to sit down to handle my business! Thankfully, I noticed before it was too late and was able to stop myself. I was sitting there in mid-squat, clutching onto the walls and sweating like I just ran a marathon. The whole time I was praying not to slip. I kind of looked like Keanu Reeves in the Matrix dodging bullets.

Thankfully I was able to pull myself up and avoid what would have been a really painful experience, to put it nicely it would have been my rendition of the Nutcracker but with no music and applause, just tears and screams.

I've heard rumors and horror stories about people doing this but I never thought it was true. I always just thought it was an urban legend or one of those disturbing sex fantasies like the people who like to be choked, but now I know it’s real…damn real. I'm scared to sit on the toilet anymore. I do my best to always inspect the area carefully before hand, even going as far as to tape the boys up or just throw them over my shoulder to avoid any dangling obstacles in my path to the potty. There will be no casualties on my watch!

This experience has made me more aware of where things are, and now I do my best to make sure all appendages are inside the car at all times while it is moving. I don’t leave anything up to chance and/or luck anymore. I don’t need to learn things the hard way to make the changes necessary to make my life a lot less painful and heartbreaking. 

This is why I now only wear tighty whities (the male version of the push-up bra), because with boxer shorts you run the risk of things hanging out the leg hole and banging into other body parts, potentially racking one's self. On the rare occasion when I have no other choice but to wear boxer shorts, like when all my other draws are full of bacon bits, I make sure my junk is rolled up nice and tight like a toothpaste tube that is almost out of paste.

My girlfriend thinks I should get surgery to fix the problem, something like a breast lift but for balls, but just the thought of any sharp pointy objects by that area leave me all queasy and lightheaded, so that’s a no go. It’s hard being a man; you women have it easy and have no idea of the pain we men have to endure as a result of things sagging as we get older. Forget the prostate; keep an eye on those balls people. In the famous words of the great poet Jay Z, ”It’s a hard sack life”…of course I’m paraphrasing.

MJM