Because It Is Me, and It Is My Luck
I am in three days of business workshops.
Three. Days.
I am the organizer and host of these meetings. I must keep things moving. At times I wonder if I should dig out my diploma (I have it somewhere, in the bottom of a drawer, only I never know which drawer I only know I have it somewhere as I have to keep sending it in for visa renewal) and check and see if it says “B.A. in Anthropology” or “B.A. in Babysitting”. But still – it’s a job, and it’s a company that I love, and it pays the bills.
I drag my weary ass to the hotel breakfast – herring! again! only it’s lost its awesome appeal! – and to the office to be there a full hour before the meeting for pre-meetings and logistics. It’s an important presentation today. Huge decisions are being made. People are flying in to present. I am ready, I am on the ball, I am prepared, I am early…
…in every way, actually.
A trip to the ladies’ proves it.
“Fuck,” I say, looking down. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I know that I have nothing on me – I just switched laptop bags. I am devoid of fiberglass. I have bichon frise tampons, but they are lolling around the bottom of my suitcase, 30 minutes away in my hotel room.
I debate my options. I surreptitiously roll up a handful of toilet paper in such a skillful way that it would shame the nearest scout. I wrap it around the crotch of my knickers with the deft of a hardened sailor (wow is that sentence going to get me blocked from a lot of corporate sites) and stagger out of the bathroom.
No candy machines. Excellent. Why don’t architects and site managers consider candy machines in all the ladies toilets from here on out, eh?
I waddle, knees together, to the receptionist.
“Hello,” she says, although it’s not hello in a language I know.
“Hello,” I reply in English. She smiles kindly, in that “Ah yes, I must speak English for the monkey” kind of way. “Um, yes. Hi. Yes,” I continue. “I was wondering, um…do you know where I can get…uh…where one buys…you know…feminine products?” Furrowed brows from her here. “Um…Girl things?”
Her face opens in a sunbeam of understanding. “Ah! I understand. No.”
Say what? “No? Sorry?”
“No. There is no place that has these things here.”
Fuck. Again.
“Right. Ok. Do you know what I can do?” I ask, desperately. “I am in need of the girl things. Girl things I need.” Apparently when I have my period in a foreign country I talk like Tarzan.
She bites her lip. Her face lightens. “Ah! Do you want to borrow something of mine?” she asks, leaning in.
I don’t even mind the “borrow”. “Thank you,” I say like a dying man crawling through the desert, and spotting water only inches away from his dessicated nose.
She reaches under the desk and pulls out a red bag. She hands me two purple wrapped pads with a smile. I am not a pad fan. I am, however, a beggar who cannot be choosing.
I look at her as though St. Gabriel has given up his post at the Pearly Gates and is now manning Tampon Central. My gratitude is astounding. It borders on love, I almost love her. I want to give her a kidney and a (only mildly alcohol-affected) portion of my liver as thanks.
I make my way into the bathroom and settle the score with the strategically wrapped toilet paper. I pass the other pad into my briefcase when I can – I have a skirt with no pockets, so it gets hastily shoved in my bra. It’s crude but it does.
The meeting kicks off.
Presentations fly.
Men in suits make themselves sound very important.
It is finally lunch break and I can tell that the raft known as a Regular Absorbancy Pad is beginning to sink under the weight of a true Shannon Period, which is akin to cutting and gutting small mammals and letting them empty out into the receiving end of some cotton by-products. I tuck the unused back-up pad into my bra and hope to head for the bathroom quickly.
I am stopped on my way. Naturally. Because this is the law of the land.
I talk to one of the businessmen, who happens to be an American. He has Questions. Questions need answers. I talk to him. He is getting himself a salad from the provided-for lunch. He drops a bit of dressing on himself and – dear god, you can see this can’t you, I can’t believe it happened but it did and I am not funny enough to make up this shit, just unlucky to get to live this kind of thing again and again – I leaned over the salad bowl to hand him a napkin.
I leaned over the salad bowl.
I leaned over.
And the wrapped unused pad decided to take a bungee jump from my bra and landed right in the bowl of tomato and mozzarella salad.
Because this is me and this is my luck.
I grab the pad. “Sorry!” I squeal. Make something up! my brain shouts. Do it now! “It’s a handful of kleenex! Unused! A pack! A travel-sized pack!” my mind screams and my mouths carries out almost hysterically at the businessman.
He, of course, is having none of it and is in fits of wheezing laughter. “Shannon,” he gasps. “Do you think I was born yesterday? I have a wife who hands me those wrapped bundles once a month to carry on me. Relax,” he says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I won’t tell anyone.”
I smile painfully. “Thank you,” I say weakly, and do the walk of shame – the walk padded with the path of good intampons – to the toilets, where I beg one of them to swallow me whole.
-S.
I so hope this toilet did not swallow you… But why, oh why are there no tampon dispensers in the ladies’ room? Should be mandatory.
Ahh! So THAT’S how you get that stuff from your bag to the bathroom when you don’t have pockets. Thank you, I no longer have to do the scuttle with it tucked into my hand!
I need to make you a tampon holder. Pronto.
I feel bad that I just snorted out loud at this. I too have been in sanipro reveal he’ll so it was asnort of sympathy I promise.
I absolutely love that you will tell us this stuff. It makes me feel better when it happens to me!
Dude. Always travel with a couple of OBs. They take like, NO ROOM. And are also good for nosebleeds or tooth-scuzz-removal if you lose your toothbrush.
That said, I love that you actually tried to convince him it was kleenex. It’s almost as good as your boobs assaulting your cat!
Oh honey. First, yes, I totally laughed out loud. But secondly, it’s just so damned adorable you tried to convince him it was kleenex. And even more adorable was his response. Of course he’s married – he’s clearly a good guy. :)
Hope you’re home in your own bed soon!
OK, this is probably going to cause you pain, but.. I read this out loud after my fit of hysterical laughter and my daughter said, “A girl in gym had a tampon in her pocket, and it fell out and a bunch of guys were kicking it around.” I said, “Yes, that’s something that might happen to Shannon. Then my son said, “Wait a minute.. isn’t she the one with the mooncup?”
SORRY!
Umm. I think I may have told you this before, but I once stashed a pad between my skirt and my tummy, for the purposes of transporting it a short distance unseen. I forgot about it. It fell out onto the floor.
You are not alone!
Holy crap. That would so happen to me. I cannot quit laughing.
My husband is in the medical field. He was walking down the hall and found an OB tampon on the floor (wrapped, of course). He picked it up and was horrified to think it was one of his patients and that she might need it. So he walked up to one of his assistants and quietly explained the problem. She took it from him and said, “Don’t sweat it. It’s MINE.” They were all laughing about it at lunch, but I told him I’d have been five shades of aghast if one of the guys I work with handed me my tampon. Good Grief.
If it makes you feel better, I embarked on an 8-day road trip (and I don’t mean like “drive two hours and see the sights for six,” I mean “drive ten hours continuously”) and got my period six hours into day one. This was this week. And I’d just bought FIVE brand-new, un-bled-upon pairs of Victoria’s Secret panties. And now they are all…well…you know.
OMG. LOL. First the tampon sneaking out of your purse, now this…you do have bad feminine product luck!
I can imagine that, and my sympathies are with you. Luckily, he was married and knew what was up.
I had a similar thing happen in the middle of my year 8 classroom. I tucked a tampon in my bra, before heading to class to get a toilet pass. As I left the classroom again, the tampon fell out without me noticing. Unfortunately, everyone else saw it. I ended up in the toilet without any tampon, had to do the mad dash to my locker to get a new tampon, got stopped by a teacher on the way back and ohmygod. By the time I got back to my classroom, I was stressed and everyone was laughing at me.
Not my finest moment. At all.
I might be a little bitter about everyone freaking out about an unused tampon I dropped.
Oh dear lord, I haven’t laughed that hard this early in the morning in forever! You are not alone. These things happen to me also. Now I will have something to think about when it does happen to me, again.
You’re making me laugh like hell. But I too promise to tell no one.
LMAO.
Thank you for turning around what was starting to look like a really shitty day
IF they don’t want to bolt them to the wall they should at least have a “candy” dish of goodies in the bathroom!! :)
I laugh and I laugh and I laugh. Thank you.
Sorry it was at your expense, but thank you. Your story has given me a smile to lighten my whole day.
OMG, I stress about that happening to me. I’ve got the Mirena and I haven’t had a period in four months. But I still carry atleast three tampons with me at all times. Just in case. I have them hidden in diaper bags, the glove compartment of my car, any hidey-place I can find. I laughed at your story..but I cringed and died on the inside. Once again, thank you dear Mirena.
oh god. you poor thing. but really, this stuff only happens to you.
but yeah, I never thought of putting it in my bra. I’m always trying to shove them up my sleeve like some kind of magician’s card trick.
ROLMAO! It’s been over 2 years since I’ve had my monthly nuisence (Yay Breastfeedinng, or progesterin only BCP) but I fear that I will find myself in a simular situation when it does return.
I don’t know how you do it, but you take these embarrassing moments and turn them into a five-star comedy routine.
Every. Time.
You tell stories that are monstrously beautiful, you know.
I always put mine in the waistband of my pants and pull my shirt down. One day one will fall down and I will be standing at my desk shaking my leg trying to get it out… just you wait and see.
Glad you can at least laugh about it.. or let us laugh about it. :-)
I used to have that monthly annoyance for every event you could think of…HS graduation, my wedding, every vacation…I’ve lost more tampons and pads from tucking them in my bra, skirt or pockets than I can remember. Not sure I ever had one land in a coworkers salad though…that is priceless. LOL