So recently we purchased some necessary items at MembershipWarehouseCo, where you can buy such things in bulk and also sample things on toothpicks while you load your cart up with lifetime supplies of toilet paper and hemorrhoid cream and the like.
These items we purchased were of a feminine nature.
Okay, they were pads.
They were what we used to call “maxi-pads.”
Back in the old days these were made out of a curiously non-absorbent material and were almost exactly the right size and shape for Barbie to sleep on whilst camping, but nowadays they are practically paper-thin and come all folded up in a swell little plastic wrapper with the cutest little teensy-weensy adhesive tab on it. This is an improvement in so many ways that I can’t even list them all, but I’ll say for starters that at least if you go to the grocery store to buy them, you can now fit something else in the cart besides the ginormous box of pads. And the chocolate, the box of wine, and your shame and humiliation.
Don’t we all disguise them with other stuff? “Oh, I had to come to the store to get these corn flakes that we desperately need at eleven p.m., and also some steel wool, and magazines and gum and oh I guess I can pick up some pads for when people visit us, they are not for me, I am genderless and have no embarrassing bodily functions.” And then we pray to get the older lady checker with the big hairy mole on her face.
Last night The Lovely Rhonda finally cracked the seal on the box and took one out for inspection. This was after we’d left them sitting on a bookcase in the living room for all the world to see for at least a couple of weeks. Because we are (pick any two): a) nurses, b) adults, c) completely clueless. (Hint: it’s c.)
She was behind the closed bathroom door but I could hear the zzzzzzip sound of the outer wrapper being peeled away, after which came the exclamation: OH MY GOD, shouted TLR through the door, YOU HAVE TO SEE THESE THINGS, THEY ARE HUGE.
There followed an episode whereby I stood in the hall trying not to pee my pants laughing while we yelled things through the door to each other about the hugeness and absorbency of these new pads, i.e. “Does it go from your chin to the nape of your neck?” and “Don’t leave one open near the toilet, it’ll suck all the water out of the bowl and swell up and smother you!”
This all reminded me of basic training, Fort Jackson, South Carolina, 1986. Drill Sergeant Pringle sat on a stool, all us winsome young female recruits gathered around at his feet watching with rapt attention as he red-facedly tried to claim that he was “not embarrassed by all this, I’m married and have daughters” while he told us to carry a few such items in our packs, “one for you and one for your buddy.” As if ONE would be doing anybody any good out in the field. And also: “And keep it in a ziploc bag, because if it gets wet it’ll SWELL ALL UP and won’t be any good to anybody!”
At this point we died laughing to the point that he had to get up and leave.