The Silence of the Tampons
2005
There I was, driving in my car, feeling both intoxicated and mesmerized by the way the sun was filtering through the branches overhead, having one of those rare moments of semi-complete optimism, when I was suddenly and unpleasantly accosted. Coming out of the radio, an ad for Kotex. A very obnoxious one at that. I was immediately shocked back into that insidious mainstream America buy-me-out-of-my-hollow-despair mindset that we’re bombarded with constantly these days. Anything we need to heal the soul can be mass-produced and sold for $99.99 or less. And as is usual with feminine products, in order to get me to buy the “whatever”, they were instilling shame-shame-shame, self-loathing, and a general biting hatred for anything involving my monthly cycle. I’m female, I’m fertile, and I’m gross. I’m ewww. I’m ick. Once a month, I’m an abomination. I must be made whole with overpriced pink applicators, flower scents, and gel silicones that will absorb even a tidal wave.
This particular ad was for a quiet tampon. I was taken aback. QUIET tampon? What in the world could that possibly mean? Kotex was offering me discretion. A tampon as silent as the sound of a pin drop. A wrapper that won’t crinkle when opened. I had one of those “Are you talkin’ to me?” moments. “Wha?”
Look, I’m just as neurotic as the next dame, maybe even a little more so, but somehow I’m finding it really really hard to muster up any anxiety over feminine product wrappers and the noises they may or may not make. Am I abnormal to not care about this particular issue? Am I being reckless with my feminine habits? Should I bring it up at the next session with my analyst?
Excuse me, but no hot shot advertising geek who probably drives a much better car than me is gonna tell me that I don’t have the right to make noise when I rip open a tampon. Who, pray tell, do they suppose I will offend? My cat? The woman in the next stall? Myself? I’ll be as loud as I want, thank you very much. I will tear into that baby and make the rip that will be heard around the world. I’ve dealt with a lifetime of propaganda from these menstrually-combative corporations and I really think this time they’ve gone a little too far. I will not have my tampon silenced. I want its voice to be heard. Enough is enough.
Just for fun, though, I tried to think up some hypothetical scenarios in which I might find myself requiring a silent tampon. What if, for example, I were sitting in the middle of a wedding, in a quiet church or synagogue, and right in the middle of the vows I needed to rip open a tampon? It could happen. Or just think if I were in the middle of a meeting and couldn’t excuse myself for even a second to go into the ladies room? A silent tampon could give me just the discretion I would need. I thought of dozens of such circumstances. Public libraries, crowded subway cars, opera performances, State of the Union addresses, dentist waiting rooms. Yes, marketing geniuses, these would be viable times when I would need a hushed, quiet tampon wrapper. Thank you for your consideration. My dignity is in your hands.
But back to the real world. Sorry, Kotex. I’m not buying. And, in fact, your insinuating hubris only makes me want a tampon that sings Handel’s “Messiah” when I open it. I want pads with wings that actually shriek like birds of prey. I want a tight t-shirt with a big Scarlet M across the chest that I will wear for five days out of every month. I dare any man to ask what it stands for.
“So, Jacoozey, what’s with the big red M on your chest?”
“You really wanna know?”
“Um, yes.”
“Menstruation. As in, I’m currently, right now, as we speak, a practicing menstruator. I just wanted everyone to know. Now, about that drink you wanted to buy me . . .”
Wow. Think of how much hassle this one little t-shirt could save me at clubs on those nights when all I really want to do is dance and be left alone.
Think of how Madonna could carry Blond Ambition to its next logical step. Feminine products worn on the outside of your clothing. What a political statement that would be. And if anyone could pull it off with flair, it would be you.
I found a dandy little site on-line called the Museum of Menstruation. This man named Harry, gotta love him, put together a very comprehensive history of menstrual culture, lore, advertising propaganda, and practical women’s health information. And the fact that this “Harry” was obviously so enthralled by all of this period stuff really endeared me. Because so many men buy into the mystique and repulsion that surrounds that “time of the month”, and frankly, don’t want to hear about it. The mere mention of the word frightens them. Listen, dudes, there’s nothing so very taboo about it at all. I am a true believer that periods are Divine. I’m so sure that Eve menstruated well before the whole apple incident. Menstruation was part of the perfection, not the punishment. It’s gorgeous, the whole thing, blood and all. What’s a little mess and inconvenience when the proliferation of the entire species depends on our monthly cycles? Ah, the glory of it.
We should celebrate, not conceal. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Kotex. My tampon and I will remain loud and proud. Let the paper crinkle where it may.
8/15/2007
I am surprised they havent come out with 25% bigger ones, since everything else seems to be.
Bigger, better.
I am right there with you. Like at the store when I run in for a regular pack of my favorites, [since I still seemed unprepared though, I'm in my 40's] and the look on the cashier's face as he/she goes for the bag, and I say" Save the bag".
Whats up with that? When did tampon's fall in the catagory of porn magazines, booze, and sex toys?
