After 20 months of period-free living (pregnancy and breastfeeding can do that to a girl), I welcomed home Aunt Flo. But Aunt Flo was a changed woman. No longer the unobtrusive house guest content to drop in for a couple of days, she was a bitchy, demanding visitor who required I stock my cabinets full of feminine hygiene products and my kitchen with copious quantities of chocolate.
You see, I got fitted for an IUD, and the hormone-free Paragardhas a well-earned reputation for causing heavy periods. So heavy, in fact, that I had to purchase my very first box of super tampons. But even the green wrappers weren't cutting it, so I stood in the sanitary aisle at Walgreen's, wondering if I dare try super plus.
I flashed back to middle school, remembering how horrifyingly giant my Mom's square-topped cardboard applicator Super Tampax looked to my 13-year-old virgin self. But I'm not that girl anymore. Hell, I pushed an 8 lb baby out of my hoo-ha. Certainly I can manage the orange wrapped super plus.
Only I grabbed the wrong box by mistake. I took home an 18 count box offreshly scented Super Plus Tampax, and didn't notice my error until bedtime. "Honey," I said as I crawled into bed, "if you catch a whiff of cheap perfume under the covers, it's coming from my vagina." Indeed, I could detect a faint scent, reminiscent, perhaps of Teen Spirit deodorant. Or toilet bowl cleaner.
Now I don't believe in artificially fragrancing my lady parts. I don't do it on the days when they might see some action, and I definitely don't see the point when Aunt Flo's spending the night.
