Funnebone goes tampon shopping

Santa is not real.The Wizard of Oz was an old man behind a curtain. Baldness is genetic. There are things that you don't want to know and even after learning about them you still don't believe them. I am quite sure I learned about a vagina well before I actually was intimate with one. I knew that I didn't have one and that girls sat down when they peed but I am not sure I made the connection. In health class I was shown a diagram of a vagina and explained its complexities. I retained this knowledge just about as effectively as I remembered what the capital of Kansas was. I found a playboy magazine in the garage when I was thirteen but it did not contain any of the aforementioned diagrams but it was informative nonetheless. Twenty years later I graduated from college and became a doctor, all the while never either accepting or understanding the functionality of the vagina aside from my personal pleasure. I would have preferred to live in the pleasurable world of ignorance for the rest of my life when it came to the vagina, but this was not to be.

I have come in contact with tampons on many occasions but only for two purposes. One was as a teenager when I shared a bathroom with my little sister. I remember finding an odd shaped package next to my toothpaste and was curious as to its nature. I opened the package to find an odd little device which I found propelled out from its housing with an adequate smack on one end. I fired 12 of the cotton rockets up and down the hallway before be scolded and sent to my room. I did notice that one of the aberrant projectiles had landed in the toilet where upon it swelled like a sponge.

While sitting in a bar some years later, a flash of devilish ingenuity fell over me and I requested a tampon from the barmaid. I covertly place the plug into a friends beer bottle and held it upside down, plugging up the hole and providing a quick laugh for everyone around. I still didn't make the connection.

I made it to the ripe age of thirty four before I was ordered to go buy tampons. I was successful in my suspension of reality when it came to the female genitalia. Women were always careful to disguise bodily functions from me. I spent $724 taking various dogs to the vet complaining of excess gas and each time my claims were dismissed or dietary changes were recommended but the gas continued. For 8 years I had thought that lysol and eye brow plucking went hand in hand since whenever my girlfriends would excuse themselves and disappear for long periods the bathroom would always smell like the school nurses office. I never asked, I suppose I knew better.I knew what sex was and I felt I was quite good at performing but I can not admit to know exactly what I was doing or where I was doing it for that matter. Ignorance is bliss, but it isn't indefinite.

" I need you to go to the store on your way over" she directed my in a nervous tone. I had just called in an order for pizza so my girlfriend wouldn't have to cook and more importantly I wouldn't have to eat her only self made meal " chicken cutlets and mac and cheese." I had a few minutes before the pie would be ready so I was happy to accept the assignment. "Sure honey, what do you need?" She paused and in a girlish voiced told me she needed tampons. " huh" I played dumb. " I just got my period and I don't have any" I tried to play it cool, pretending to be a man of the world and I said" umm ok, Ill be home in a bit." "Wait!" she screamed before I could hang up, " you don't know what kind." "Kind"? why are there kinds i wondered but continued my front. " Oh, what kind do you need" I asked in my strongest manly voice. " I need the ultra slim, unscented, super absorbent. It will be in a playtex pink box with white lettering and a pink bow"

As she described the brand, type, absorbency, color and flavor of the tampon, my mind started to churn. I didn't know they had scents or sizes. I figured the elastic nature of a vagina would negate the need for different circumferences. I began to question the different scents available, wondering if "new car smell" was an option. Why would anyone buy regular tampon when there are super absorbent models available?

As I walked into the supermarket I attempted to remain calm and inconspicuous. It was as if I was there to steal the crown jewels and did not want to be noticed. Just as the anxiety was nearing critical breaking point, I happened upon a long and glorious display of potato chips. Like a welcoming wall of comfort and understanding I stopped to bask in its security. My mouth watered as I panned the different sizes and flavors.

I resigned to make this trip like any other by expressing my right to impulse shop. I went back to the wall of chips and as if I were Noah preparing for the flood, took one of every flavor. Shortly thereafter I found myself grabbing soup cans by the armful followed by several frozen pizzas, pasta sauces and two cases of Coca Cola. Feeling as if I were the contestant in a shopping spree game show, I grabbed whatever I could, as fast as I could. My cart started to fill as my frantic paced picked up. I was possessed and had no control over my selection or destination. I zigged from side to side and looped from isle to isle. As I made the tight u-turn from isle 9 to 10 my eyes fixated on the display of toilet paper touting itself as " made from recycled paper." Before I could grasp the concept of recycled toilet paper, my cart came to a stop. Whatever the force was that had propelled me to this point had put the brakes on my vehicle and in doing so thrust me back into reality. I looked up to the sign above my head and a haunting voice in my head eerily announced" isle 10: paper goods, personal care, feminine hygiene"

The edges of my vision were blurry. The voice over the pa system announcing $1.12 pork shanks was echoing and distorted. The isle was empty as I struggled to push my now full and weighted cart past the toilet paper and napkins. The sea of pristine white paper goods gave way to a dramatic influx of brightly colored boxes. Slowly images of smiling women, daisy covered meadows and feathers suspended in mid air were displayed on the packaging. I stopped the cart midway down the lane, totally in awe that my amazement of the the potato chip variety was trivial compared to this: The Great Wall of Tampex.

I had never felt so defeated in my life. I was but a mere spec an endless universe of panty shields, sanitary napkins and other super picker uppers. My mind drifed back to the phone conversation and all I could remember was " tampon" and "goodbye". Panic set in as my eyes and fingers searched the boxes hoping something would trigger a familiararity.

The everything went dark.

When I woke up I was surrounded by store employees and concerned shoppers staring down at me. As I turned my head to get my bearings I was face to face with a box of playtex. I quickly turned my head to the other side and grazed my cheek on the corner of a "light days" pantie shield. Horrified I jumped to my feet to the awe of the onlookers and was astounded with what I saw.

I at first though I was a survivor of a tornado or tsunami. Boxes were strewn about and tampons lay scattered on the floor and shelves. Applicators crunched under my feet as I back away until bumping into my full cart. The crowd moved in unison toward me as there faces expressions turned from disbelief to rage. My pace quickened as I abandoned my cart and backed out of the isle. The only thing that saved me from the lynch mob was the blanket of ejected tampons and round ejectors that hampered their pursuit. I turned and ran out of the store, still unsure of what happened.

By the time I got home I was panting and sweating. She opened the door and surveyed my condition. Noticing my state and lack of parcel, she asked what happened. I explained to her, to the best of my understanding, that a twister had come down the tampon isle while I was holding a box of ultra slim, unscented, super absorbent playtex tampons in a pink box with white lettering and a pink bow. We both stood expressionless. I wasn't sure where that had come from. Perhaps hitting my head on the floor after the tornado had revived my memory, or it could have been the angry mob. She looked my up and down , reached her hand out to me as I leaned my head down ready to accept her comfort and sympathy. I felt a tug at my collar and looked up to see her holding a tampon by its string, swinging from side to side. 

I was not intimate with her vagina for quite some time after that and I still have never tried the Ketchup and honey potato chips or any other product from that grocery store. 

She finally forgave me two months later when I agreed to let her pick out my Halloween costume.

See more of me at Funnebone.com