Alright. Meghan Trainor. She’s written a bunch of songs you hear at work and on pop/pap radio. They’re catchy, sure-fire pop leprechaun gold. The kind of thing that is fun and cool for ten minutes and then gets annoying (and disappears). You know the type. Anyway.
Her song Me Too. It gets played at work all the time. It’s catchy, it’s funny, it mentions G-d so it appeals to the bible belt. And it sounds like a wonderful anthem for self-esteem and positivity. Well, I say it’s an anthem for masturbation.
Who’s that sexy thing I see over there? That’s me!
Haha I say that every day. Uh huh.
Standing in the mirror.
Put that icy thing hanging from my neck? That’s gold!
Show me some respect, oh oh
OK, Mrs. T. Calm down. It’s a necklace. Relax. Also, very nice, your reflection turns you on.
And then we get to the meat of my supposition, in the catchy-as-hell chorus:
I thank God every day
That I woke up feeling this way
and I can’t help loving myself
and I don’t need nobody else, no!
Is she singing about positivity? Or is she about to take some me-time with something that vibrates, if you know what I mean?
I say the latter. And there is NOTHING wrong with that.
This is right up there with Norah Jones’ one night stand that saw him get an orgasm but left her frustrated and unfulfilled, so she turned it into a jazzy song. But that could just be me.
As you were.
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