Okay, listen up, scented tampons, you suck. Why you even exist in the first place is a mystery to me, but let’s save that for another rant. Last month I accidentally purchased you. After spending an entire day wondering why it smelled like there was a zombie in my crotch I finally took note of the packaging and realized my blunder. Being economically disadvantaged, I could not afford to toss you in the bin like so much garbage and make another purchase to correct the grave wrong that had been dealt me. So I suffered. Oh, how I suffered.
This time ’round on the red wave, noticing my supplies low, I delightedly – nay, ECSTATICALLY made the trek to my local grocery store to replenish my stock of the favored sin fragancia ilk of tampon that I have come to rely upon. Perusing the “feminine products” aisle I discovered with shock and horror that almost every form of feminine hygiene product designed for my particular “flow” needs was SCENTED! Conspiracy!!!! Or some idiot employee who doesn’t realize there is a difference screwed up the order. (Or… CONSPIRACY!) Being tired and cranky et cetera, et cetera, I gave up and purchased a tampon lower on the threshold totem pole, but I warn you, scented tampons, you shall not best me again. This I vow. No matter what trickery or scare tactics you attempt to thrust upon me, I will not be had. I will drive all over the valley, no matter how fatigued, to every convenience store, grocer, and pharmacist in the city to circumvent you if I must. I shall be ready. Oh yes, I shall be ready.
Originally posted on kissthechicken.com