Dispensing Wisdom

I was at an appointment the other day and went to use the bathroom, and I noticed the tampon dispensary was broken into. You’re probably getting nervous because I’m only just into my first paragraph and have already used the word tampon, but don’t worry, that’s not the direction I’m heading… so to speak.

Anyway, they keep the bathrooms locked so vagrants can’t enter to use it for whatever vagrants use public bathrooms for (probably something outrageous like peeing and washing up) so I have to remember to get the key from the office waiting room, which is not my point. My point is… my point is… what is my point?

Oh yes… my point is, when I looked at the damage of this tampon dispensary, it exposed the coin drop inside, and I saw two dimes sitting in there, and I’m thinking to myself “It’s been a very long time someone used this machine to buy a tampon, because nowadays tampons from dispensaries cost a quarter; they haven’t cost a dime since at least when Clinton was president. Not only that, whoever was responsible for managing the coins from the tampon dispensary wasn’t doing their job properly, and whoever broke into it didn’t notice they left behind these two dimes.” and all this was occurring to me as I was reaching into the machine to take the two remaining dimes.

Well you don’t expect me to leave money lying around when I see it, do you? A dime is a dime.

And two dimes is twenty cents *snort *snicker

Whoever busted open the dispensary was probably pissed off they went to all the trouble of bending the fuck out of it, only to find dimes and not quarters. I wonder how much money they got… but the more important question is, what is the logic of locking things up in public restrooms, like toilet paper, paper towels and tampons? If you’re gonna say it’s because those goods are expensive, imagine how much it’s gonna cost to fix the busted up tampon dispenser. They probably won’t fix the tampon dispenser, come to think of it, because if they haven’t been collecting the money since the time Clinton made a mess on a nice girl’s dress, it’s probably safe to assume they don’t care.

Can you imagine how old these tampons were? They’d probably disintegrate as soon as you inserted them into your love tunnel, leaving you holding just the cardboard applicator. Yes, tampons at one point in time had cardboard applicators, not plastic, which was stupid because using one was like trying to insert a tree branch through a straw. At one point, we didn’t even have tampons, we had to use sanitary napkins, also known as pads; those big, thick things made out of what I can only assume was mattress pad stuffing.

When I first started my period, my mom promptly took me to the drug store and bought me everything I needed (forethought not being my mother’s strong point, we went the day I got it) and as we were in the feminine products aisle she was explaining to me what I needed: “We need to get you pads and a belt” so I asked her what the belt was for and she told me to hold the pad in place. Astonished, I said “A belt? Jesus Christ, how big are those things?!”

Pretty big, if you were wondering. Also, pads didn’t have the sticky strip to adhere to your underwear to keep it in place, hence requiring the belt contraption. They were much thicker, not like the thin ones we have today. Back then, having your period meant you wore a two by four between your legs while you were bleeding like the friggin’ Virgin Mary. Yeah, virgin… because if you hadn’t stuck anything up inside there, whether it be tampons, zucchini, shampoo bottle, spoon, a stuffed toy, or your neighbor’s finger, you were still a virgin. 

Young people probably have difficulty imagining what they were like, since nowadays women mostly don’t even use pads, and today’s tampons are compact little bullets that fit into their equally compact vag. Don’t get too smug about it being that way though Susie Q… once you have your first set of pups, it’ll stretch out like yesterday’s yoga pants. I heard it’s supposed to snap back into place after a while, which I find hard to believe. I mean, c’mon, you can’t expect when something the size of a watermelon squeezes through something the size of a salt shaker it’s going to regain it’s original shape… right? I wouldn’t know, I actually don’t have any kids, so as you can imagine, I can easily accommodate a compact bullet.

Okay, I lied… it was the direction I was heading.