I've never been more cognizant of everyone's gaze than when I was walking around with a bulge made of socks unceremoniously wedged between my actual penis and my underwear.But there's a gender-specific horizon of gazes, and crotches fall right into everyone's blind spot.
It looked like I either had mammoth balls or my penis was so huge I had to fold it multiple times to fit in my pants. My crotch now having grown three sizes that day, I ran some errands around New York City.
I pictured myself being a D-list celebrity: tourists stopping for pictures; a small group of people gawking as I try to pick up some groceries.
I also wear jeans that are considerably looser than, say, a wetsuit or a catsuit or skinny jeans.
But do women actually really care about an enormous pants-ham? I've already got a penis, but for the sake of full disclosure, it's not a Mark Wahlberg in , you're a rock star-size dong.
Which is how I found myself ordering one of those "bulge enhancers," basically a foam nut cup, online.