Have a Happy Period!

Have a Happy Period!
Originally uploaded by baglady

A few months ago when applying a feminine product to my undergarments, I found a message scrawled all over the part covering what the manufacturer refers to as the "wings." Never before had such a mundane and even depressing moment been met with such exuberance. I almost immediately wanted to share it with my three readers, but panicked that on top of being an unsavory topic that certifying the occurrence of my period was somehow just completely undignified.

The problem was that every time I thought to blog about this I was on my period. The "Have a Happy Period!" messages would remind me and I would set aside a new adhesive covering to scan. This went on for a good 4-5 cycles and every time I cleaned my counters I had to find a place to tuck that stupid piece of waxy paper.

The latest package I bought does not include this message - no well wishes, just the old boring badge. I was determined to find the paper right then and there (well after I had pulled my pants up) and set out to find the scrap. I tore some of my piles apart and made a mess looking for it. I decided that I had to finally let the world know what was going on in women's sanitary products. I was going to let the blogosphere (gross word) know even if it meant exposing my cycle date. "Let them know! Let them mark their calendars and live in fear!" I thought. Perhaps due to blood loss, I could not find the memento and gave up. In looking to see if someone else had posted a pic, I did find that Always has a whole web site dedicated to this philosophy.

So don't believe me, check it out for yourself. I especially enjoyed the narcissistic philosophy that included, "This is the time when, even if something is even slightly annoying, the world (curly font) should know about it." Isn't that what blogs are for? Now I have TWO excuses. I haven't heard from my sister yet; I hope she enjoyed the ecard I sent her. I am still trying to understand just what kind of person would download the Always background in the "pick-me-up downloads". It's bad enough wearing a small diaper; I definitely don't want to stare at a reminder of it all day.

Sorry to tell you that while I finally found the scrap of paper after cleaning my desk, it is no longer "that time," so friends you will have to be on guard all month as usual.

While I am on this subject, I would like Ralph's to know that they are NOT Costco. When I got my most recent period early and went to the store for more panty liners, there were only three choices. 1. Costco-sized box. 2. Thong liners. WHAT IS THE POINT? (Shaking head) 3. Large(r) woman size. I am big, but not that big and hey, I can just get an adult diaper if it comes to that. I had just done my Trader Joe's shopping and had a full cart, so in addition to being forced to choose the Costco-sized box, I had to put it right on top of all the bags. While I don't mind sharing my period stories with all of you, I just don't want to stand in line behind a bunch of teenagers with over a hundred sanitary napkins. Call me old fashioned.

Big Boned Women and the Hazards of Jumping

If I ever do internet dating, which I seriously, seriously never plan to do, I would list my ability to clear drains as a skill. I was sure the clogs in my shower and bathroom sink were going to require a visit from my handyman. Nevertheless after being grossed out for the last time at the slow drain situation, I decided I had nothing to lose and went to it. I am an upside person, but using the fact that you're standing in your own rinsed off grodiness to understand how difficult bathing conditions in third world countries must be to abate my whiny thoughts has only limited success. With my only materials being my hand cloaked in a trash bag, scissors and hot water I removed all of the hair, etc. from the drain. It didn't really help, but I hadn't expected it to. I scrubbed the shower down, waited for the silt to drain. A few minutes into the shower and of course with soap in my eyes, I heard a belch from the pipes underneath me. At first I wasn't sure what it was, but realized it was the drain clearing. It took my best measures of self control to keep from jumping up and down. My place has really lame construction quality and I pictured jumping up and landing finally in the tub a floor below Laurel & Hardy style. Of course with the plumbing the way it is, the stuff I cleared is probably now partnering with other blockages to necessitate a serious call from the handyman for a full snaking, but for now I bask in my small victory. It feels great to rock at small home repair skills.

How Wilder Ruined Cheap Salmon for Me

How Wilder Ruined Cheap Salmon for Me
Originally uploaded by baglady

It was recently pointed out to me that farm-raised salmon is died that perfect color orange of actual wild salmon. I grew up during the whole Red Dye #3 or whatever causes cancer phase and just can't stomach the thought of dyes in ma belly. This is the package of the last farm-raised salmon I baked for ma famille. It was delicious and everyone asked for seconds. I'm not sure it's just the dye that bothers me after also hearing Wilder go on about what sounded like the Simpson's three-eyed fish, Blinky, and the ills of genetic inbreeding.

Thanks for spurring me to write this with your post and here, Happy, is your collective "ewwwww" on the count of three...

Tumor Confessional

Reading CrazyAuntPurl's most recent post reminded me of a similar issue I experienced. Not too long ago, I noticed a lump under my right ribs. I have had other upsetting surprises and my response is to not tell anyone and alternate between forgetting about it and worrying. I spent lots of time jabbing at it and was casually worried it was a bona fide tumor.

The thing I hate most about leaving my 20's is the change in metabolism and how everything wants to embrace my middle. There is a reason it is called a waist (waste). I used to have a tiny waist, especially compared to what is above and all that is behind. I like to say I have so much junk in the trunk, I need a garage sale. It was with this thought that I decided at a minimum that I needed desperately to start some kind of stomach exercises. Of course I am doing way too many things and my brain can't hold another, especially one so contrary to my geeky, introspective lifestyle.

I realized at mass one week that it contains many opportunities to do stomach exercises, basically every time you kneel. For those of you who aren't Catholic, that is a good three times during mass and a fourth if you get there early. (I am not counting the first time you do it going into the pew or the last getting out). I began multitasking with the stomach exercises just every Sunday. It seemed silly, but after a while I didn't even notice and it didn't interrupt contemplation at all (that would have made me feel guilty and we do not want that!).

It seemed dumb because my stomach, or stomachs as I call them, were just the same blubbery masses as before. I knew it would take more effort, physically activity and cutting back on favorite vice foods, but didn't have more mental energy to spend on it. A good month into my secret stomach muscle worship exercises, came the tumor; I am such a dolt I didn't even connect the two. Luckily after a week of thinking it was a tumor, making the kids give me their opinion, I noticed during church, pain was in the tumor spot while kneeling. This lump in my upper stomach was a muscle - gasp!