Although I share everyone else’s reaction. Happy Period? Happy Period? Somehow, that’s not the word I’d use to describe my emotion standing in a bathroom stall at work trying to juggle my outer clothes, my underwear, a pad that looked like it came from surgery on a hemophilliac, toilet paper, new pad, etc. etc. Not to mention worry about dripping blood, clotty bits sneaking away, stains on the clothes, drips on the floor… Yes, I have heavy flow the first day or two… why do you ask? Oh, yes, that spreading pool of —
And the “sizes”. Should be listed in gallons or liters or something. None of this “slender” or “super” crap. I don’t want “super”, I want “55 gallon capacity”.
How about a firm handshake instead? After you’ve washed your hands, that is. I’m not sure I want to hug someone with a yeast-infected cootchie of fire. Best of luck getting better, though. Antibiotics suck. (I do hope they haven’t given you diarrhea. That would make a bad situation immeasurably worse!)
Flashback: me, in throes of PMS depression, screaming at a giant Always poster plastered 10 storeys up on the side of an apartment building on a busy Toronto street:
I knew I should have stopped after “Raging yeast infection…”
Good things could not have followed.
It will take me several months to get over my new fear of cunnilingus.
Thrilled to get them, maybe, but after the initial relief of getting it you still have to put up with it for a few more days and then it’s the same old annoying crap. Not necessarily happy.
Always pads give me a rash, too. Something about that “dri-weave” top panel of theirs is very irritating to sensitive bits.
I saw an ad featuring that new slogan and the very first thing that popped into my head was “Why in the name of all that’s sane and holy does Always have a man writing their ad text?”
I can buy feeling relief about your period (I’ve been there myself). But “relief” and “happy” aren’t all that close together on the emotion-o-meter.
Then again, one of the happiest moments of my life (in terms of long-lasting impact) was the day I discovered tampons. Pads are the devil.
Although, there aren’t enough :rolleyes: in the world for the advertising geniuses behind the Tampax “Pearl” campaign. And I fully agree that “super” is a stupid, stupid size distinction. If we’re giving superlatives to things I’m intended to put in my cootchie, I think we should go for “stupendous” or possibly “magnificent” dammit.
If I could code the tampons, “slender” would be known as the “lucky bitch” size. And instead of little flowers on the wrappers, I would have little hands with the middle finger raised.
For a while they were calling them the “teen” size, which just chapped my ass when I was a teen and needed the super some days.
They could at least pick a size name that’s not associated with fat - I don’t want the notion of “super-size” and my cootchie associated, even in my own brain. Jumbo is right out too. This isn’t helped by my brother (who deserved the smacking he got), who one day when shopping for his wife picked up a box and said “wow I didn’t know you could supersize these! It’s just like fries!”).
