The Red Army. The Rag. The Curse. The Sicklies. Your period. Your Cycle. The Crimson Curse. Witchin’ Week.
The menstrual cycle-whatever you call it, can be a bear. In my teens it always came unexpectedly. It never arrived at an opportune time…you know, like all those days when I was sitting about the house just wishing I would begin gushing blood from my nether parts!!?!
Nooo, it always exploded at the most ‘entertaining’ moments. I remember one particular day when it made its entrance while I was innocently teeter tottering with my confirmation class. What kind of sick practical joker would let that happen to an impressionable young woman?
Then there was the week I was camping with friends. Seriously. Out in the wilds with nary a feminine product for a hundred leagues!
I don’t even know what the purpose of this red tide is. And please, no, don’t explain the scientific causation to me. I am entirely uninterested. Because the truth is, it’s a ridiculously bad idea…a long running joke perpetrated on the women of the world. And for the most part, it’s ONLY women. Females of other species have come up with more civilized means of getting through the year. When was the last time you saw a prairie dog carrying around a box of tampons? Does that mean the prairie dog is more advanced than our own species? I often wonder.
Recently, however, my daughter introduced me to something called the menstrual cup. It’s a small silicone device that takes the place of a tampon. I won’t get into the gory details. But let me say, it has made my life a bit simpler and more environmentally friendly. Here’s a link for the Diva Cup site if you’d like to check it out: http://www.divacup.com/
And here, my blog lovin’ sisters, is the best thing ever written about Aunt Flo. It’s an actual letter penned to the brand manager of Proctor and Gamble. Enjoy!
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core™ or Dri-Weave™ absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.
Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from “the curse”? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my “time of the month” is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call “an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.” Isn’t the human body amazing?
As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers’ monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.
Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: “Have a Happy Period.”
Are you fucking kidding me?
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness—actual smiling, laughing happiness—is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything “happy” about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like “Put Down the Hammer” or “Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong”? Or are you just picking on us?
Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that’s a promise I will keep. Always.