I am a fan of Tampax Pearl, and recently saw that its off-brand counterpart was not only cheaper, but also on sale, making it impossible for me to justify the purchase of my regular brand. After all, they are supposedly identical to the name brand version. Spoilers: they aren't. At all.
One of the problems that I encountered was in the removal. As someone who has had approximately 180 periods, I have come to expect certain things like irrational mood swings, horrible cramps, and a string that dangles a certain length. A ripcord, if you will. Well, off-brand's ripcords are decidedly shorter than the name brand's, which made for an alarming moment when I could not find the string. I broke out in a cold sweat as I began imagining all possibilities in which the string would go missing. Did my vagina suddenly become this cavernous pit in which the tampon got lost? Did the string detach from the cotton bit? Did I somehow misplace the damn thing all together?
I suddenly envisioned a scenario where I would have to hire a miniature search and rescue team to repel into the gaping pit that had become my vagina in order to retrieve the tampon.
It was only a few seconds before I found the string, but in that time I had concocted an alternate universe where my lady bits had grown exponentially to the point that having sex would be akin to throwing a hot dog down a hallway. I was relieved to find that everything was exactly as it should be, minus the one inch of string that made the difference between removing the tampon and losing it forever.
Now, you may not think this is a big deal, but string length makes a difference! I have a decade of experience with one brand, one string length, one expectation of where I can find this damn thing, and to have it reduced to a single inch is alarming to say the least. In the space between where the string should have been and where it actually was, I had begun to contemplate what reasonable attempts could be made to remove a rogue tampon. Would pushing make it move? What if I coughed really hard? At what point would I ask my boyfriend to help me? Would I have to go to my gynecologist and explain that somehow my vagina has accepted the tampon as one of its own and is now refusing to release it from its selfish hold?
Another problem I had was with the applicator itself. Tampax Pearl has a grooved grip that keeps the applicator from sliding away from you (well, into you, really) while you insert the tampon. This grip is pivotal. Without the grip the entire applicator would be hurdled forward when force is applied to the plunger, thus keeping the tampon itself from ejecting from its plastic home, rendering the whole thing useless. The off-brand also has a grip, but it is utter shit. Sadly, it was not until I was at work that I came to find this out.
My office has a three stall bathroom for all of the women on the floor. As the floor is populated almost entirely by women, 2/3 of the stalls are almost always in use. Such was the case of the most difficult moments of my period history.
I entered the restroom to find that only the middle stall was open. I hate the middle stall, not only because it is flanked on each side by another toilet, but also because it is incredibly small. So small that you can barely open your legs before your knees hit the wall. Why is this relevant to this story? Well, in an attempt to insert my off-brand tampon, I lost grip on it and the whole thing went in. Shit.
The stall was small enough that I could not get the right angle to reach for the little bit of plastic that was still protruding while sitting down. Therefore, I had to stand up, turn to the side, and squat to reach it. Which immediately set off the automatic flush. Multiple times. As I was plie-ing, I attempted to lean forward causing me to hit my head against the wall, which in turn caused me to swear like a sailor, all while the toilet flushed with wild abandon. My coworkers in the neighboring stalls could only see my feet facing the wrong way, and hear the banging of my head against the stall, my swearing, and incessant flushing. There was a moment where I heard the bathroom door open only for the person to pause, listen to the commotion, and immediately leave the bathroom. Not only was it embarrassing, but also not working.
Eventually, after breaking out in a full body sweat, entering into what could only be described as a full blown panic attack, and contorting myself into shapes that I cannot begin to describe, I removed the applicator from where it never should have been. But now what? I tried again to eject the cotton plug, only to find that every attempt lead to the applicator slipping out of my grip. I just could not get purchase on the damn thing. The space only allowed for me to barely grip the ends with my thumb and middle finger as I attempted to push on the plunger with my index finger.
After a five minute war with the tampon I started to consider my other options. 1) Remove pants, lift leg above head, use wall to hold leg in place, allowing for better grip. 2) Leave tampon in its current position, pull up pants, and waddle to neighboring (and now vacant) large stall. 3) Admit defeat and sit on toilet for the rest of the day while crying. 4) Remove applicator, eject tampon 2/3 of the way out, replace applicator, and hope the tampon ends up in the general vicinity of where it needs to be.
After realizing that I was in no shape to attempt option 1, there was a likelihood that someone would enter the bathroom during option 2, and the fact that I needed to got back to work, which eliminated option 3, I settled on option 4. Thankfully, it worked. However, it did not help me to account for the inordinate amount of time that I spent in the bathroom, nor the awkward looks I received from the coworkers who were stationed close enough to the bathroom to have heard my panicked ranting.
This whole thing could have been avoided if I had just spent the extra $3 for my preferred brand. Fuck saving money. I have an entirely new motto when it comes to purchases: If it goes on me or in me, I will spend the extra money. After all, a couple dollars is worth not being known as the office's bathroom maniac.
