Wednesday, April 24, 2013

This post written in Easter egg colors.

Once upon a time, in a State far away, a little girl turned 14.  And with that 14th birthday came the advent of her womanhood.  For the next 15 years, for 8 consecutive days each month, the Red Fury barged in, desperately but so hatefully welcomed.  One day, while making her monthly contribution to the balance sheet of Playtex Products LLC, that little girl, now a woman, discovered that her local Duane Reade had run out of her preferred tampons, Playtex Super.  A sales clerk directed the frantic and weeping woman towards a box of tampons marked  Playtex Ultra- "your only option", said the sales clerk.  

"What is Playtex Ultra?" asked the woman.  
"A type of tampon?" said the sales clerk with a disinterested shrug.  

With a sigh, the woman bought the box of the foreign product, hoping that her experience would not be the raw nightmare that was Tampax Pearl.  At home, the woman said a prayer, inserted the tampon, and then... Wait! Could it be? It was! It was!  That box of Playtex Ultra tampons, for people for whom the Red Fury is an experience that could only be described as follows:


...that box of Playtex Ultra tampons is salvation, redemption, and, well, a Tampon commercial.  To wit:

Oh Sorry... That's the Kardashians... 

Much better.

For the first time in my life, I no longer dread my period (other than the occasional, Dear lord, please let this sh*t come this month); the period experience has become finally what it was meant to be: just another part of being a woman and not a punishment.  

And I'm not kidding- I am wearing pastels as I type this.

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