thelesbianlifestyle.com

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So I get out of the shower one day, and my oldest son, who was barely two and a half at the time, was standing at the doorway of the bathroom. He was telling me a story of great length and imagination, so as I was listening to him I continued to dry off. As I reached for my underwear on the floor, I barely noticed his break in conversation, until I was jolted back to reality by an uncomfortable but slight tug.

“Mommy…you have a string hanging out of your butt!” he said excitedly, hand still poised in mid air as if to reach out and tug my tampon string-again.

With the blood rushing to my face and hysterical laughter beginning to bubble, I sat down and scooted over to him and ushered him out of the bathroom with a quick kiss and a playful swat on the bottom.

~~~~~~2~~~~~~

As a dancer, I had seen a lot of things, too many to even begin to recount here in this blog. But nothing tops The Great Tampon Tragedy of a fellow dancer.

This new dancer, the poor girl, had been on the Depo birth control shot and hadn’t had her period in a couple of years. One night, all of a sudden, she began bleeding like an opened artery. We quickly supplied her with an array of tampon brands, and instructed her in the art of “hiding” the string. She would have none of that, fearing it would fall out of her on stage. She opted to cut the string off entirely, a practice some girls preferred.

All was well that night, until it was almost closing time and her time to change out the tampon. Squeals of laughter quickly turned into screams of terror when the girl couldn’t retrieve the tampon from inside of her. After hearing her cries of helplessness, we sprung into action. Two girls picked her up and sat her on the counter holding her arms behind her. Two girls, including this author, took control of her legs and acted as stirrups. One brave soul, my best friend, took to the task of “birthing” the rogue tampon, fingers inserted to help guide it out with all five of us chanting “Push, push, push!”

At this point we had drawn the attention of every other dancer in the building, who were all standing around either chanting by this point or laughing. But with no girls on the floor, the manager became quickly annoyed. Imagine his surprise and the tampon’s victim’s horror when he barged into the dressing room just in time for the The Birth of the Stuck Tampon.

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I never have had much trouble “keeping”, if you will, the dreaded plug in its place. I only have one story of it falling out, but I believe it to be a little too personal to write about. I will say, however, that I have become accustomed to the acrobatic antics that my tampons seem to enjoy performing, and I have no issue sharing a particular story with you.

On many occasions, I have found these courageous contortionists upside-down, sideways, and diagonal, but my appreciation for these feats of grandeur was heightened one day when I discovered upon “exchange time” an attempt at the letter “W” existing within me. I am still unsure as to what activity I was involved in that day that allowed for a situation like this to occur, but whether it’s because I have not participated in it again or the tampon was disappointed at its performance, together we have not had an attempt at creating such a letter again.