Wow, the Salon article is very informative. Le Anglais, huh? Oh, those wacky French.
No kidding.
This one is semi-related.
When I was about 14 or 15, a group of us from a school class decided to get together over the summer and raft down the Chattahoochee River. Not rapids or anything, but a simple floating downriver thing. About 15 people total, male and female, three or four people to a raft, all tied together.
I had just started, and back then my flow used to be quite heavy. But, having no idea how long the trip downriver would actually be, I reckoned that one tampon would be enough. It would have to be, in fact; I couldn’t wear a pad, as we were going to be in bathing suits, and were obviously going to be getting wet and possibly submerged.
The trip was over 8 hours. I spent the latter half hanging onto the outside of the raft I was in by my arms, with my lower half in the water.
Luckily, several others thought that was pretty cool to do, so I didn’t look too out of place.
That was quick thinking.
Speaking as a male, I’ve never understood why women were so nervous about telling their boyfriend about it being “that time of the month.” It’s something that happens to most women, and it’s not like there’s a hell of a lot that they can do about it, so as long as they’re not smearing the thing around, why be nervous about it? One of my GF’s woke me up one morning saying, “I’ve started, get the hell out of here!” She was so distraught about this that she dumped me. Most of the time, it’s a relief for us guys! (You know, “Whew! She ain’t pregnant!”)
Nice. Though … “penetrate the market”?
As for the boat, well, if the people didn’t brief her that nothing other than excrement goes in the toilet (no paper at all, not TAMPONS, either), then well, boo on them.
What I want to know is what this space feminie protection is.
Silly me. I always thought OB stood for “Oy! Blood!” Oh well. 
As for me, living in Hawaii I camped, bodysurfed, beached and kayaked. A LOT. I have had to change mine in a kayak on the ocean off the coast with my boyfriend right behind me whining about why I couldn’t wait till we beached it. “Because, asshat, if I wait any longer, I’m gonna cramp so hard that you’re going to need to borrow one to shove up your friggin nose and I don’t have any to spare.”
Changed once on the road while stuck for hours in traffic between Atlanta and Macon behind truckers with nothing better to do than block anyone trying to get to the bathroom at the next exit via the shoulder. Of course, the changing of the guard was accomplished after I, with great relief and anxiety, emptied my excrutiatingly full bladder into a diaper borrowed from Cinnamon Babe’s diaper bag. Oh yes, it was an all-around dignified day for me.
One thing I’ve learned though. Better to ditch the plug than leave it in too long. My days spent swimming in the ocean with only one for the entire day (back when I was too embarrassed to change without the privacy of a toilet) resulted in a very serious case of toxic shock syndrome and hospitalization. After that and two children, one will laugh in the face of inhibition. HAA HAA haa? 
According to this thread, space feminine protection is tampons. No big thing.
Anyone want to have a Bonding Session
Eh, I was hoping it was something a bit more … out there.
Maybe something as involved as the space toilet.
Bumparino