Gawd it’s been hot this summer.
If you read my Delaware Beach Life column or have seen my show Aging Gracelessly, you may recall me learning about the grand-mammary of all smart devices, the Smart Bra. It measures heart rate, oxygen level and steps, as you wear it.
The questions wrote themselves. Will it hold up? Do I have to charge my tits in at the airport? Will my data no longer be just Victoria’s secret? And unlike my smart phone or pedometer, nobody would have to warn me “Don’t leave home without it.”
Well, in the same category, just in time for any heat wave, comes the announcement of a company making mini ice packs for brassieres. You can treat your bosom buddies to Cool58 Coolers and have your own personal ice chest. Yeti has nothing on this.
Apparently, you put the packs in the freezer for an hour, slip them in your bra, and chill your chest to a nippy 58 degrees. According to the manufacturer, the icy effect can last several hours.
Frankly, I’m skeptical. Why should just my boobs get relief? Generally, I’m hotter under the collar. Second, can’t a gently molded boneless chicken breast just as easily be the big chill for my girls? And seriously, I have no desire to walk around on ice like prawns on a buffet table.
Although advertising these coolers could be fun. The A-B cup freezable bra inserts could be called “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff,” while the larger sizes might range up to “Big Girls Don’t Fry.” Ha! There’s my next book title.
Just think. You could start the day with frozen double D’s but after schvitzing five hours you’ll look like you’ve had a breast reduction.
But if you think this is udder madness, how about one for the boys?
Online you can shop for Snowballs’ freezable underpants for men. These tighty whities have pouches for ice cube wedges. They only claim to keep the family jewels cool for half an hour. Great balls of fire. Your Johnny Walker won’t be the only thing on the rocks.
If it were me, I’d try a strategically placed Big Gulp from WaWa, for sitting or driving. It’s a twofer. You’d have a Coke to drink and an icy go-cup for your gonads.
And what about those air-conditioned car seats? We’ve loved our heated auto seats for years, although the driver seat in Bonnie’s 14-year old Mercedes caught fire last winter and she had some very hot, very cross buns. Would the converse malfunction be a Rumpsickle?
Curious about how the seat cools, I rode in a friend’s brand-new SUV with its ventilated seating system. It blows room temperature air up through perforations in the seat. It felt like a northwesterly trade wind through the canyon. And it’s hard to tell whether it’s the driver, the passenger, or the Jeep Cherokee breaking wind.
I tried another vehicle with premium seats to send a chill up my spine. Here, the air was cooled by flowing it over a chilly surface, then blowing it up my butt. It still makes me feel like I’m straddling a leaf blower. Ten minutes in I had a numb bum.
But how is it that the one thing we really do need isn’t even a thing yet? We have heated steering wheels for cold snaps, why not chilled ones for heat waves? Yes, there are cooling steering wheel covers, existing patents for steering wheel chillers, and there have been a few odd attempts, but we got nothing so far.
Last week I got into my parked car and it was a towering inferno with the steering wheel a ring of fire. I wanted oven mitts. Inside my sweat lodge I got second degree burns just testing for a survivable hand-hold.
So overall, it’s a hot town, summer in the City of Rehoboth. Now that we’re in the dog days we can hope for a cool down. Until then, outdoors we may choose to chill our chests and cojones, but inside we look forward to a hot time in the old town at Sundance. See you there. I may have a bag of frozen peas in my bra.
Fay Jacobs is an author of five published memoirs. Her newest is Fried & Convicted: Rehoboth Beach Uncorked. As a humorist, she’s touring with her show Aging Gracelessly: 50 Shades of Fay.