Dr. Jensen, MD Urology Facebook ad: “Better Nights Start With Better Prostate Support”

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I'm 67 years old and I sat down with a pen and actual paper to write this. That should tell you something. I don't write reviews. I've never written one in my life. But I added up what this problem cost me, three hundred and forty dollars and the better part of three years, and I decided somebody ought to hear about it from a real person. So here it is. From me to whoever's reading. For about three years my prostate had me getting up four times a night to pee. Sometimes five. And barely going when I got there. You stand at the toilet in the dark, waiting on it, and a little dribble is all you've got to show for being awake. Then back to bed. And you lie there figuring it out. If I drop off now I get three hours. Two and a half. And right when you start to drift, the pressure comes back and you're up again. I want you to understand what that does to a man over three years. It isn't just being tired. It's being a different person. I was foggy by every afternoon. Snappish with my wife, who'd done nothing to earn it. I'd be asleep in my chair by half past eight with the news still going. I stopped doing things, too. That's the part I grieve. I quit the early tee times because I couldn't make it through the front nine without hunting for a restroom. We turned down a trip to see our daughter because the drive scared me, all those miles between rest stops. I planned my whole shrinking life around where the next bathroom was. And here's what I need you to know, because I expect some of you assume an old man like me just sat there and did nothing about it. I didn't. I tried everything I could get my hands on. I started with the saw palmetto. Everybody's heard of it. Took it faithfully for months. Nothing. Bought a "prostate complex" next, the kind with a label so crowded you'd need a magnifying glass. Nothing. Then a pricier one online, because I figured the cheap ones must be the trouble. Pumpkin seed oil that a fellow at church swore by. A second saw palmetto with better reviews. A men's formula. Eight bottles, maybe nine. Over three years. Every one taken every morning like the good patient I am. Every one of them ended up half-finished in the cabinet. And every single one did the exact same thing. Nothing at all. After enough of that, I gave up. I decided this was simply what getting old is. Some men get bad knees. I got up four times a night. That's the hand you're dealt, I figured. Now here's where it turned, and it happened by pure accident. One afternoon my wife had me cleaning out the bathroom cabinet, and I had all those old bottles down on the counter to throw most of them out. And for the first time in three years, I actually stood there and read them. Side by side. And I'll be darned if every one of them didn't have the same main ingredient printed right on it. Beta-sitosterol. A hard word. It's just a natural plant thing, but I read enough afterward to learn it's the one ingredient with real proof behind it for a man's prostate. So I'd had the right thing in my hands the whole time. Three years of it. That stopped me where I stood. Because if they all had the right ingredient, why in the world did not one of them ever help me? So I turned them over, one at a time, and tried to find how much of it was actually in there. I couldn't. Not on a single bottle. It was always hidden inside something they call a "proprietary blend." Which I came to learn just means they're allowed to list the ingredient to dress up the label, but they never have to tell you how much is really in it. By law, they don't have to. I sat down at the kitchen table with my reading glasses and looked into it proper. The real studies, the ones that actually worked, used 250 milligrams. A genuine amount. And most of those bottles I'd bought likely had a crumb of that. Just enough to print the word on the front and take my money. And you'd never know the difference, because a full dose and a sprinkle look exactly the same on the label. There it was. The whole thing, finally making sense at my own kitchen table. It was never that the ingredient doesn't work. It was that I'd been buying the right thing over and over, at amounts nobody would tell me, which means I'd most likely never once taken enough of it to find out. I hadn't bought nine different cures. I'd bought the same mistake nine times over. So I went looking for one that simply tells you. Right on the front. The actual number. I found one. It was called Skulpt Prostate Health Chews. It states it plain. 250 milligrams of plant sterols, printed right there on the label, nothing hidden in any blend. And a few other natural things in it besides, nettle, reishi, pomegranate, zinc, for the swelling end of the problem, since it turns out the prostate has more than one thing going wrong at once. For the first time in three years, I knew exactly what I was taking and how much of it. Which is more than any of those other bottles, or any doctor for that matter, ever gave me. I'll be honest with you, the way I'd want a man to be honest with me. After three years and three hundred and forty dollars, I had no faith left. I bought the Skulpt expecting to be disappointed one more time. The first week, nothing. I thought, of course. Around the third week I noticed I'd made the two o'clock trip and the four o'clock one but skipped whatever used to come between. I didn't dare believe it. By the eighth week I woke and the clock read ten to six, and I lay there confused as could be, because I'd slept clean through the night for the first time in three years. I cannot put into words what that gave back to me. The fog lifted. I stopped being short with my wife. I'm awake past nine of an evening again, part of the conversation, like the man she married. I'm playing the early tee times. We made the drive to our daughter's and I never once thought about a restroom. That's what those three years truly cost. Not nine bottles. The mornings. The drives. The early rounds of golf. The better part of myself. All of it sitting on the far side of one number that not one company would print on a label. So that's my letter. I'll close it the way I'd want somebody to close it for me. If you've got your own cabinet full of bottles that did nothing, before you spend one more dollar, do the single thing I never did for three years. Turn the bottle over. Find the main ingredient. Then try to find how much of it is in there. I'll wager you can't. Because it's hidden in a blend. That was the whole game the entire time. It isn't that you're doing nothing. It isn't that you're too far gone. It's that you've never once known if you were getting enough of the one thing that matters. Check the dose. That's all. That's the thing nobody tells you. The one that finally told me was Skulpt, 250 milligrams, right on the front, nothing hidden. I paid three hundred and forty dollars and three years to learn it. You can have it for the price of reading an old man's letter. Walter, 67

Where the ad sends people

tryskulpt.com

Better Nights Start With Better Prostate Support

Skulpt