Feminine Hygiene Products.

Now here's the challenge. How do I talk about this experience openly without anyone squirming in their seat. Prepare yourself readers, its going to get slightly ugly. 

Let's start by saying every second person on this planet bleeds, or has bled, on a monthly basis for most of their adult lives. Nearly every female you know has gone through this, or is going through this or will go through this. We're talking menstruation, periods, monthly visitors - that unforgivable and unmentionable subject, less accepted than talking about bowel movements. True.  Sit in a backpackers cafe and eavesdrop for an hour. 

This week after a particularly strenuous pilates class, I needed to make a purchase of feminine hygiene (FH) products. They call them this even though I know a lot of unfeminine women who use them.  I couldn't be bothered trekking up the hill to the expensive pharmacy. Remember this was just after pilates, and I had already worked my abs and gluts. There was a small little convenience store where we had parked, and despite the noisy and offensive sparkling lights around the door, I took my chances. After all, I was in Kings Cross and this kind of decor is considered normal. 

I immediately located the FH products so walked over and found my preference from a very generous choice. I placed my package on the counter and waited for the young male attendant to serve me. Why is it that whenever I need to buy these things, I always get served by young men? I'm in my forties and you would think this act could go without incident by my age. No such luck. The young man sneered as he picked up the packet to scan it in. It wasn't smothered in dog poo, but it may as well have been. I also asked about Panadol. He grunted toward the shelf stacked with pain killers and I returned with Nurofen. The Zavance label for fast acting pain relief. Why would anyone choose the slow acting variety? Plus, they didn't have the period pain variety so Zavance it was. 

My man, lets call him Nasif  because that's what it said on his name tag, then asked me why everyone asks for Panadol but then come back with Nurofen? I told him I wasn't in marketing. I had no idea and I didn't really care, I really just wanted to pay and get out. He looked up at the ceiling for an answer - nothing but peeling paint up there, buddy. 

He then picked up my packet of FH products and looked at them again. He took a long hard and thoughtful look at my little package and asked me why all the women who buy FH packets also buy pain killers at the same time? 

"Oh I don't know, perhaps it has something to do with period pain". 

The mere mention of the P word (not pain) made him glow a very deep red and he couldn't take my money fast enough. 

Male partners take note: save your woman the embarrassment of this customer service experience and offer to buy them for her. In advance. With chocolate. 

Male shop attendants take note: we don't want to discuss it any more than you do. Serve, give us change, and a sympathy smile. 

Oh, and a block of cadbury chocolates would also be appreciated.