Posted on

A Tale of Two Tampons…

Let me start this off by saying… I truly hope that I didn’t forever scar my two oldest spawn for any future mates that they may have.  But, if I did and their future mates should choose to procreate and wind up with nosey ass boys…This too shall be your life.

A couple of weeks ago I was in the downstairs bathroom.  I don’t even remember what I was doing but, it probably involved bleach and Lysol wipes.  Somehow, I ended up reaching for something in the under the sink cabinet.  What I found was, for the second time, tampons that had been unwrapped, removed from the applicator and were WET.  Then, it hit me. A month or so before, we found that all the towels under there were damp and worried that there may be a slow leak in the pipes somewhere.  We now had our answer.

The first time that the men-children decided to see what tampons did, I don’t really even know what made them think to put them in water.  But, whatever.  I gave them the stern, “These are MINE.  They cost money.” and after being asked what they were, the standard, “We’ll discuss that when you are older.”   It was obviously stated at some point that they were not to touch them again.

Fast forward…  Now, I’m just pissed.  If you are not a female that uses or have used tampons, these fucking things are NOT cheap.  They are not cheap because Tampax and Playtex know that we will pay whatever the price to avoid those unnecessary um, accidents.  But, I digress.  I grab them both, make them sit on the floor in the entryway from the living room to the kitchen.  I take the unwrapped and wet tampons and throw one in each of their laps.  (The looks on their faces was priceless at this point but, *giggles* it gets better.)

“Do you know what these are for?”


“Who did this?”

“Me.” (Evans)

“Okay.  But, I’ll just cover this for both of you so I hopefully don’t have to repeat it again.”

I then began to explain, in GREAT and COLORFUL details about WHAT tampons are, WHAT they are used for, the DEFINITION of menstruation and to make sure that my one last point was made… HOW they were inserted and into WHERE.  

I could go on but, their faces said it all and I thought that they were going to vomit as they both sat there.  With tampons in their laps.  Arms extended as to avoid touching them at any cost.  And, with my friend Mark standing right there as I was taking the point home.




About melodyswatson

Thanks for giving this blog a chance. Well, it would have been cool if you would have tried it when I started it like, FOUR FUCKING YEARS AGO! But, water under the bridge and lets go from here… ;) I am a soon to be, 40 year old mother of three boys, proud wife to one sexy ass Navy Chief, fur-mom to two dogs, five cats, two rats and a black corn snake. I thrive on chaos and therefore I also bottle feed and foster underage kittens for my girlfriend's rescue. I am THE Crazy Cat Lady. I live in Southern California (yes, you can be jealous now) and own my home so… I won't ever be leaving! I am not close to my family mainly because… well, I don't really relate to them. But, I love the fuck out of my friends and will do anything for them. I hope that you will follow this blog. Mainly because it would nice to hear your own experiences or times you relate to something you read on here. But, also be aware that I am NOT an everyday, on schedule blogger. I blog when I have something to share. Always remember that forced words on paper are just as fake as that 'comeback' you have towards someone ten minutes too late. Let it go and wait for the next victim. I am also a staunch supporter of swearing. If I didn't swear, you would know that I was dead. So, take a stroll down memory lane on this blog and follow my thoughts and adventures.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s