If there’s one thing I just don’t understand, it’s women. If there’s two things I don’t understand it’s women and their keen obsession with maxi pads.
Maxi pads are like the Nicene Creed, they’re everywhere and yet “no where” at the same time. How many times has a woman flipped out when you opened her purse? Yes, there’s nothing in there, that’s why you don’t want me to look in it. Likely story. Everyone knows it’s because you’ve got a supply of feminine hygiene products large enough to ration out to a brigade of menstruating women. It’s OK. It doesn’t have to be a secret. Same thing when dudes use your bathroom at your house. You don’t need to hide the tampons. We all know they’re there. I guess being married and having them out in the open has made me more used to them, but still… Do you hide your band aids?
If there’s three things I don’t understand, it’s why they sell 1,400 distinct varieties of maxi pads at the grocery store.
The other day when Kristen found out I was going to the store, she asked me to pick some up for her. This is something that would have terrified me a few months ago, but I’ve since been desensitized to the point of pad apathy.
What I didn’t realize, however, is the maxi pad aisle of the store is the largest in the whole building. What’s with all the selection? I mean… you just bleed on them and throw them away! Are there any other features that I’m not aware of, thus necessitating a cubic mile of shelf space to accommodate all the options?
The female hygiene aisle loomed maliciously as I passed it on my way to the Oreo cookie aisle, and some lady was in deep concentration in front of the “Long with Wings” subsection. I was determined to have something manly in my basket before venturing back to the girl aisle. Oreos seemed a pretty good choice, not to mention they were one of the terms Kristen and I agreed to in performing her dirty work for her. A few minutes later, I came back, and the lady was STILL standing there. In my embarrassment, I went to the produce section to finish my shopping. Upon returning a few minutes later, she was STILL THERE.
Geez! What could possibly take you so long? Finally, I just swallowed my pride and made a break for it, determined not to make eye contact. After about a 3 second cost analysis (18 for $4.29 versus 16 for $4.09), I grabbed a pack and fled the scene.
As I approached the front of the store, I wasn’t sure which would be worse, a girl checker or a guy checker. I didn’t want to appear like a sicko to the girl, and I didn’t want the guy to think I was some whipped maxi-pad fetching gopher for my significant other. Luckily, there was this really old dude who couldn’t see (or speak English I think), and whose checkout line cleared out. He scanned the pads no questions asked.
When I got home, Kristen had all sorts of questions about what other brands were there, whether I saw ones with “wings” or “super” (whatever the crap that means). I explained to her that I had purchased the maximum pad per dollar ratio, and if she wanted anything different she could spend 30 minutes in that aisle herself. With all the rest of the ladies.
Like I said, obsessed.
P.S. If you are grossed out by this post… I understand. I promise this is the first and last post about feminine hygiene that will ever appear on this blog.