adventures in tampon buying

Since Aaron had to go to the store last night I asked him to pick me up a box of tampons.

“Not an ordinary box, tampax pearls, with the yellow writing”, I told him.

“No way!” he said. “I’m not buying tampons”

At first I was annoyed. Then I remembered that time years ago, right after Andrew was born, when I got a nasty yeast infection (sorry if I am grossing anyone out but all women get them at some point). Anyway, it was really bad. I won’t go into details or anything but I needed some Monistat pronto. Only thing was that due to my rigid catholic upbringing I could not bring myself to buy a box of Monistat. I didn't want it to be known that just like all other woman, I did in fact have a vagina, and not just any vagina, a yeast infected one. Like your average avoidant person I decided to just let it get worse. Finally, while shopping at target, I asked my friend Cami to please buy me something for my awful, hellish, infection. She did it, just like that! She walked up to the counter, without the least bit of hesitation, and handed it to the cashier. I was impressed. At the same time I hated her a little for being so normal and nonchalant about vaginas.

To this day, as a 29 year old woman, I still only go to female cashiers when buying tampons. Also, I have always been embarrassed when buying pregnancy tests because a pregnancy test is actaul proof that I do in fact have sex. That's just gross to have out there hanging in the air at a local drug store. It's almost like having the word "Hussy" written in vivid black marker on my forehead.

After Aaron's flat out refusal, we all went to Wal-Mart, the whole family, to avoid Aaron’s fear of tampon buying. I asked him, just to be annoying, if he was worried that the cashier would think he had a vagina. He was not amused. I was.

While at Wal-Mart I found the tampon aisle adjacent to the condoms, lubes, and feminine itching products. Awesome! There was a man in the aisle an honest to God living, breathing, man, and he was looking at stuff. I was about to congratulate him on his bravery since my very own husband was hesitant to buy a simple box of tampax pearls. Then I noticed that his arms were filled with lube, boxes of condoms, and other stuff that I was afraid to look at. Since I am prude I was automatically convinced that he was a sex addict. I envisioned one of those swings in his room, mirrors, lots of them everywhere, whips, and handcuffs. I was certain he was the type to ahve sex ads on craigslsit and hosted orgy parties on the weekend. Then I snapped back to reality and realized that I might be the creepy one for staring and for thinking about sex swings. So there the two of us stood, he proudly and unashamedly searching for the perfect brand of lube, me humiliated over a box of tampons. I was definitely the freaky one. Oddly enough I found the lube man refreshing. Maybe I will try to be more like him when it comes to tampons and other vaginal products.