Bloody Hell OR Gorilla SaladFollow

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PROBABLY NOT WORK SAFE, nor for gentle men, etc



comments given to me by Fleven:
"It's a period piece."
"This one goes out to all the ladies."
"Reading this will make you see red."

Pikko snort laughed.
Magi said it's not funny.
I laughed so hard I coughed myself into an asthma attack.
I won't put what Dana said, b/c Nimowe would kill him.



Now if you aren't scared off, read on...








Bloody Hell!
I am SO very on the rag.

Warning: TMI to follow in the form of a long, not-very-serious rant about feminine hygeine products, dead Confederates, and secret-decoder rings. Menfolk are advised to read at their own risk. Some guys can't take this kind of humor. You have been warned.

Yes, the commies are invading. This led to a desperate 1 a.m. expedition to the store to get more supplies with which to hold off the onslaught.

This ritual, which I suppose all women must perform, is a neverending source of frustration and dread to me. I once more faced the Aisle Of The Damned. The first assault was visual, my retinas were swiftly overwhelmed with packages colored garish, Barbie-pink, soothing aqua, lively yellow, or forebrain-searing turquoise. The second assault was olfactory. Whatever unholy perfume they hose those things down with is second in offensiveness only to baby products.

Like a combination used-car salesman and bible-thumping preacher, the promised fresh smell delivers false promises and veiled insults: "You'll feel fresh as a spring morning! Nobody will know you're bleeding from the ****, you disgusting, sinful, smelly woman!"

And while I was there I witnessed perhaps the most pathetic pandering to a woman's insecurity about Period Odor I have ever seen. A doohickey attached to the shelf that contained pull-out coupons. But these were not just any pull-out coupons. These were little mini-advertisements for some new and festive variation on the same old cotton/nylon rag, a version that now thoughtfully allows concerned women to choose from two available smells – something springtimey and something rainy fresh.

That's right, we had scratch-and-sniff advertisements for a product that's just going to be kissing your gorilla salad. That's the perfect thing, says I. If I ever want my @#%^ to smell like an old woman's potpourri spray or a new-age hooker's douchebag, I will certainly keep that product in mind.

Christ.

I'm going to tell you all something, and it may come as a shock. But it is impossible, no matter how much perfume you wear, to feel "fresh" when you are squelching in your own bodily fluids. Okay? No product you can buy is going to change this. No microweave covering, no multi-layer filling, no contoured channels, and no "fresh scent!"

The only people who are going to appreciate the "fresh scent" are you, when you first open the package, and any crotch-sniffing dogs you might run across during the day.

Anyway, the frustration did not end there. The only products between paper-napkin thick liners and industrial-waste absorbers were the kind of pads that would work just fine except that they have wings. Wings are supposedly there to keep the pad in place and keep overspill from ruining your panties. I say if you're wearing expensive panties to impress your Aunt Flo, you have your priorities all @#%^ed up.

What the wings really do is rub the insides of your thighs raw, peel off your panties, and stick to your leg, or, worse, get sucked inside your panties where they wad up and jab you in the nether regions and create a critical breach in the absorbency layer through which fluids are guaranteed to seep, staining anything you sit on. In other words, they do not work as advertised. They were probably invented by men, just like five-inch-long tampons. As I exclaimed at high volume in the store "For @#%^'s Sake! I am bleeding from my ******, not HANG-GLIDING!"

Adding to my suspicion that the wings are universally loathed, every woman who heard me (there were three) laughed ruefully. They knew exactly what I meant.

I finally located a product I thought would do (these companies change their packaging and drop products every month so it's senseless to settle on a brand) and realized that its major selling point appeared to be "quietest pouch!" Complete with a touchable sample applied to the outside of the package, in case you need convincing.

Because God forbid your cats should hear you changing your she-diaper at 3 a.m. and think that you're opening a package of kitty-treats.

Seriously? All I can think of is that this must have been demanded by teenage girls who were so embarrassed by the Crinkly Pouch Of Humiliation that they would sooner use their own socks than admit to the world that they, just like virtually every other woman between thirteen and fifty, have a period. Gone, gone are the days of furtive rustling in high-school bathrooms, covered up by the sound of a flushing toilet or well-timed cough. Gone are the days of the incriminating crinkle when one fishes for a cell-phone in one's purse. We, my sisters, are Free At Last.

So I took them home, cursed and snarled until the perforations-that-weren't forced me to gut the package like a deer carcass, and I tried out the "quietest pouch" which was indeed so whisper-silent that if I were a ninja, and I was bleeding vaginally, I would accept no other brand. Of course, were I a vaginally-bleeding ninja, I would have bigger problems to worry about. Like the fact that I would likely have forebrain-searing turquoise hair and horrifically inflated breasts.

Once I opened the package, I received the coup de grace. On the little peel-strip, printed in mimeograph-blue ink, were "Kotex® Tips For Life," including such helpful gems as "Drink 6-8 glasses of water daily to help keep you hydrated and feeling fresh," and "Staying active during your period can help relieve cramps." It also helpfully informed me that "Avoiding caffeine may help reduce cramps and headaches," and that "Kotex® Lightdays® Pantiliners [are] also available in Longs, Extra Coverage and Purse-Paks." All this in English, French, and Spanish.

What the @#%^? My twatrags are talking to me?

Tips For Life? How about some REAL pearls of wisdom? "If you lend someone $20 and never see them again, it was probably worth it." "Chicken breasts are done when they feel like a hard *****." Or this, which millions of women and axe-murderers need to know: "Hydrogen peroxide removes bloodstains!" Now THAT would be useful.

Just so long as they don't go the fortune-cookie route. "You will soon take a mysterious voyage." "Accept the next proposition you hear." "A star is a forever light. Like a star, let your wisdom shine." That would just be too @#%^ed-up.

I have long maintained that we should put pictures of gorgeous men on the packaging. Really butch guys on the heavy-absorbency products, and femme guys on the pantiliners. For the ever-more-popular "teen" size, we could get pictures of the boy band du jour. So you could have pictures of N'Sync and Justin Timberlake on your black thong-cut pantiliners (yes, such things exist).

You know if guys had periods, the packages would be slathered with pictures of Carmen Electra, and would frequently include a free bikini magazine or offers for $50 rebates on Coleman grills. What do girls get? @#%^ing pastel colors and super-quiet pouches. Such is our shame. I really think hip advertising is the key to breaking this taboo.

My husband thinks they should take it one step further and create cartoon characters, like Tony the Tiger or Cap'n Crunch. I suggested they should use caricatures of real-life people . . . like a cartoon Bloody Mary holding her severed head. His suggestion was the best. Bloody Bill Anderson, that grim figure of the American West.

I can just see the commercials now.

"When you're ridin' the rag . . . ride with the best! Dancin' girls and preachers' daughters alike agree: use Bloody Bill's Pads! Available in two delightful scents: poison sumac and gunpowder. Now with blood gutters!"

"Cork that revoltin' wound with Bloody Bill brand Tampons! Individual packages come with cotton batting, gauze, and a 60-second length of dynamite fuse. Free ramrod with each purchase."

"Monthly Curse got you feelin' a mite insecure? Get the assurance you need with Bloody Bill's Roll-your-Own Tampons! I left a trail of blood clear across Kansas, but you don't got to!"

But we will never see the subject approached with such humor.

Advertisers would probably just come up with a zany animal, like a cartoon beaver or something. They'd make it cute. This would tie in with the conventional wisdom that girls are getting their periods younger and younger. With any luck, you could make it "cool" to be on the rag. Girls would brag about it. "I'm up to three packs a day!"

I think they should include a surprise in each package, like a secret decoder ring, and print cryptic messages on the backs of the pull-strips that you can decode while you sit there on the toilet at 5 in the morning with cramps and nothing to read. And if you save UPC symbols and mail in your $3.95 shipping, they'll send you something cool. Like, 20 UPCs would get you a book of erotica.

50 would net you a really kick-*** waterproof vibrator.

200 would net you a personal visit from the male of your choice, who would, on bent knee, apologize on behalf of his whole gender for not having to suffer the affliction of The Monthlies, after which he'd fix a three-course Italian dinner, bake brownies, give you a full-body massage, @#%^ you heroically, and then, if you were having a very, very bad month for cramps, he might allow you to kick him in the nuts. Just a little. He'd go limping out about the time your girlfriends arrive with Heath Ledger DVDs, allowing them to snicker at his plight before diving into the brownies, which ought to be cool enough to eat by then.

No, I am not angry at men. I just hate the way that they smirk smugly and say "well, cramps may be bad, but you can't get kicked in the balls."

Buddy, you don't get a three-day knock in the cluster every month. Guys can go for months, nay, years without a good kick in the balls. So can it and fetch me the remote. Knight's Tale is on.

And while you're up, bring me some of those goddamn brownies.

EDIT: It is two days later, and you are all still telling me how brilliant I am. While this naturally comes as no surprise after 600+ comments, I do thank you. I love you all. You don't have to comment.

I also understand that many of you like wings. For God's sake, use them if they work for you -- it's better than bleeding all over people you don't know. You don't have to weigh in one way or the other. My inbox will survive without being fed.

Link to this in your journal if you want, I don't mind. Friend me if you want. You don't have to ask. I haven't yet beaten anyone over the head for friending me. (Mostly because you lot are really hard to find, and should probably get out more.) You don't have to tell me if you do. I promise, I will figure it out.

And, one final note: I know all about the joys of non-disposable cloth pads and the Keeper/Divacup. Save your praise. I get the idea. I'll be getting something like that as soon as I have the cash. Which probably won't be anytime soon, but that's life. If you really feel like putting your money where your mouth is, go to my userinfo and donate to my paypal account. Because if I had a quarter for every time someone shot off about those damn things, I would have bought one by now.

Thank you all for reading. Now I am off to do further battle with the communists.

Edit II: It is almost a week later. I'm at damn near 1,000 comments. I will probably not be responding to a single one of them after midnight tonight.

Now. Because I am going to have to make this crystal clear, I am going to use small words, and it's going to be pretty snarky.

You. Yes. You. In the chair.

Just because I'm not reading commments on this post, do not simply flee like fleas deserting a dead rat and infest the next amusing/poignant/available post you find, using any thin excuse to tell me "Hi, I friended you!"

Stick around, by all means. Read me. Get to know what I am about. Try, oh, pale, waltzing Lord, TRY not to put your foot in your mouth.

Suddenly there are over five hundred of you around that I don't know. At this point, the best way to distinguish yourself is to stick around, stay quiet, and figure out what is going on before you say anything.

I would really appreciate it. I would hate to have to friends lock this whole journal because it's become a playground for people with worse manners than fornicating dingoes.

Also, metaquotes is a fine community full of witty people. They have also been pointed this way no fewer than four times. Please. Let's not make them sick of me. Mmmkay?


Edited, Jan 9th 2007 6:07pm by Darqflame

Edited, Jan 9th 2007 6:17pm by Darqflame

It's Cairenn's fault.

All the above is true. But... gorilla salad.....that just kills me.

who are the 2 admins o.O?

FTFY

Eh, I've got a good 20 years to go, and I'm absolutely loving my Glad Rags. Completely comfortable--can't even feel them. No chafing. No crinkly papery sounds. No odors. Better for the environment. And they're actually cheaper over the long run to boot! (the deluxe kit with enough supplies to cover the whole cycle is $180 for the undyed organic cotton kind, and they're meant to last for at least 5 years. If you spend $4-5/month on disposable products, you've saved a good $60-$120 over the course of those 5 years.

Of course, I only had a couple cycles to really get to know them before I got pregnant, but I'm glad I have them available for the endless weeks of post-partum use, because really the last thing I want to be dealing with when I'm taking care of a newborn AND going to school is uncomfortable pads.




Edited, Jan 9th 2007 5:29pm by Ambrya

You know there is that pill you can take to limit your periods to 4x a year, that's a money saver too, or just get fixed cleaned out like I did!

No problem! They really were great when I had a use for them, and I'm glad I'll have them for future use. My biggest problem with disposables was that after a couple days, I would always be very chafed--not from menstrual fluid (of course you change them often enough that that isn't the problem) but because they trap the skin's own moisture rather than letting it evaporate. I've never been able to wear tampons comfortably, nor the Keeper (similar to the DivaCup) when I tried that, so this was really my option of last resort, and I'm thrilled they turned out as well as they did.

There are several other companies that make similar products (http://www.fresh-moon.com/ and http://pacificcoast.net/~manymoons/moons.html are two others off the top of my head), and even patterns you can find on-line for making your own (I didn't have the leet sewing machine skillz nor the patience) but I have to give GladRags the plug because they're from Portland. If you have Wild Oats Market or Whole Foods or maybe even New Seasons, you might be able to buy them retail.



Edited, Jan 9th 2007 5:56pm by Ambrya

I made the mistake of casually mentioning it to teh hubby and the thought of buckets of water with red soaked pads in them sent him into "no" spasms, so I'll have to order them in secret!

Mr. Ambrya!

He has no problems with mine. When I explained to him what they were and why I wanted them, he was like, "ok, get 'em." And he the one that does the laundry! (he likes doing laundry--I have no idea why, but I'm happy to leave him to it, just like he's happy to let me do the grocery shopping, which he despises) I use a sealed 1-gallon dishwasher detergent bucket we got from Costco and leave the lid on, changing the water daily, and it's been no big deal.

He's also completely okay with the idea of cloth diapering. Once I got into the idea of pads that actually let your skin breathe and realized just how big a difference they made in the way I felt, I knew there was no possible way I could subject my kid to plastic diapers for three years. Luckily, Mr. Ambrya remembers his mom cloth diapering his younger brothers and didn't think anything of the idea--especially when I told him it would save us about $2000 the first year alone.

I'm thinking of offering to donate some volunteer time to Miracle Diapers, a non-profit organization that helps get low-income families started with cloth diapering (since the start-up expense is somewhat prohibitive, despite the fact that it's so much cheaper over the long run.) I became acquainted with the founder of the organization during my labor-doula workshop a few months ago, and though I don't think we really qualify as "low income" and therefore cannot, in good conscience, apply for the program, I figure one way to shave a little off the start-up cost of cloth diapering is to make my own. Since Miracle Diapers accepts donations of cloth, I assume they make some of the diapers they distribute, so I figure I'll contact the woman I met and offer her an exchange--she teaches me to make the diapers, and I in turn will use the knowledge to contribute some volunteer time making diapers for the organization.

Nope--from most accounts I've been seeing, these days the cover on the outside is cloth (wool seems to be popular, some people swear by water-resistant synthetics like microfiber, but I would think that rather defeats the purpose of letting them be breathable) and generally has snaps or velcro closures, as opposed to the jabby diaper-pins of yesteryear.

These are not your mother's cloth diapers, they've seriously evolved with the crunchy-granola movement. Not only do they have newfangled, nifty accessories such as a sort of "shower head on a hose" that somehow hooks into the water supply of your toilet and hangs there on the toilet, making rinsing the diapers much easier than the old "plunge it into the toilet to rinse" method, but the diapers themselves are very sophisticated. I've read about a half-dozen "Cloth Diapering 101" pages, and still really am not sure I know the difference between fitted, pre-fold, chinese pre-fold, pocket diapers and all-in-one.

I THINK--and I could be WAY wrong, because I still really need someone to give me a one-on-one tutorial on the subject--that fitteds are actually contoured, kinda like the hour-glass shape you see in disposable diapers. Pre-folds are a square of cloth that you fold in thirds (basically your traditional cloth diaper square folded) and lay inside the hour-glass shaped fitted cover, and then you put it on pretty much the same way you would a disposable--though, why call them "pre-fold" when they're not actually pre-folded? No idea what Chinese pre-folds are, but I think pocket diapers are sorta like the Glad Rags--the cover is actually an envelope, and you stuff the liner (a pre-fold, I presume) inside. All-in-ones I assume are diaper and cover sewn together--from what I understand they're ungodly expensive and harder to clean.

Also, apparently there is some sort of biodegradable flushable liner you can use--rice paper or something like that--which makes cleaning the poo out much easier, especially once the kid starts eating solids and the poo becomes more pasty than liquidy. According to my friend with the 17-month old, who has been cloth diapering since day one, she's only had one incident of leakage, due mainly to what she refers to as "projectile diarrhea," and that particular incident would have doomed ANY diaper, disposable or otherwise.

Even with the water for washing them, figuring two extra loads of laundry a week (with or without biodegradeable detergent) I figure it's still much more environmentally friendly than the tons of disposable diaper waste going into the landfills. I'd like to claim I'm crunchy enough for that to be a major factor in my reasoning, but I'm not, so it isn't. Mainly, they appeal to me for two reasons.

One, like I said, is due to my experience with disposable and cloth pads. If I get unbearably uncomfortable having to wear synthetic fibers and plastic against my delicate bits for just five days out of the month, how uncomfortable would the better part of three years be? Now, if the kid inherits my husband's skin, we could diaper him in sandpaper and steel wool and he'd be fine, but if he gets my sensitive skin, he'll probably be a lot happier (read, less fussy in the "drive momma nuts" kinda way) in nice, soft, breathable cloth diapers.

Second, the cost consideration. I'm in school full-time and not working, Mr. Ambrya is working full time and taking courses for his Master's degree half-time--between tuition and living expenses and now all the other baby-related expenses, any place where we can save $2000 in a single year is a damned good start.

Also, apparently cloth-diapered kids potty train earlier and more easily, because they can feel when they are wet better.



That's not going to be a problem for us, but I do need to figure out the logistics of dealing with them when we're out of the house. For the first four months, I'll be able to bring the baby to school with me, so I need to figure out a reliable and non-odiferous way of transporting the dirty diapers accumulated in the 4 to 9 hour days spent in class.


Edited, Jan 10th 2007 1:25am by Ambrya

For me either, but for the sake of a less fussy baby and signifant dollar savings, I'll manage. And you have to figure--you're already washing **** every time you have to use a wad of baby-wipes to clean the stuff off the baby's bum--is that much more going to really make a difference?



I couldn't say from any personal experience, but from every report I've gotten so far, cloth makes potty training easier, to the point where the disposable "transition diapers" like Pull-Ups are trying to emulate it by becoming LESS absorbent, so that the toddler, recognizing the wet feeling and eventually connecting that feeling to the urges that lead up to it, starts to catch onto the cues better.

Unfortunately, hormonal birth control hasn't been an option for me since my early 20s, when for no apparent reason whatsoever, every single type of pill (high estrogen, low estrogen, no estrogen mini-pills, you name it) and injection or other alternative hormonal method turned into a big honking "let's bleed for three weeks out of the month!" ball of no fun whatsoever. And it took me about seven years after the last type of pill I tried to get back to having reasonably regular cycles.

Add to that an allergy to nonoxynol-9 that results in severe itching in places you simply can't scratch (you have NO idea...), and it's actually something of a miracle that Mr. Ambrya and I didn't make an unintentional baby at some point in the last 10 years, given the less than stellar success rates of condoms when not coupled with spermacide.

I'm assuming you're saying you had a hysterectomy? If so, did they remove the ovaries as well? And if so, how are you handling the hormone supplementation issue?