Much unlike many a magazine editor who recommends you buy all sorts of crap that they most likely got for free, your Jezebel staff doesn't get jack shit (other than books, unsolicited). And that's how it should be. But on our own time, in our personal lives, we still buy stuff. Thus we're introducing Worth It, a daily recommendation of random things that we've actually spent our own money on. These are the things we buy regularly or really like, things we'd actually tell our friends about. And now we're telling you.
About halfway through my pregnancy I began to notice the occasional—yet undeniable—stench of urine wafting from my crotch. No matter how much I wiped or how frequently I cleaned myself with soap and water, it would return. Eventually, I had a Britney-freakout-meltdown moment in which I shaved myself bald with clippers, in the hopes that it was just my pubes that stank. It didn't help. I gave up and chalked it up to my heightened sense of smell, a known pregnancy symptom. That is, until my husband was sitting next to me on the couch one day and told me that I smelled like the sleeping homeless guy on the subway that no one wants to sit next to.
I asked one of my midwives about the problem and she blamed it—as she does everything else—on my "excessive" weight gain. (Her favorite thing to do is to tell me that I'm way too fat, with an overly concerned look on her face. I really hope she's on call when it's time for me to deliver so I can take a big steaming shit in her overly concerned face.) Anyway, I was told that I was "leaking" and that Kegels—up to 90 a day—might help. I did them religiously, but I still smelled like the floor of the public bathrooms at Coney Island, so I broke down and admitted to myself that I'm simply incontinent. I bought a pack of Poise pantyliners mostly because, thanks to a marketing campaign staring Whoopi Goldberg, they were the only product I was aware of that wasn't a full-on diaper like Depends.