Karma

I'm not sure how I feel about karma - does it really come back to bite you in the butt if you do something less than stoic?





Karma bit me in the butt - literally - while we were in Boston. Remember a couple of posts ago when I talked about the perky woman at the pool with the tampon string hanging out? And remember how I said I don't wear tampons? Well, maybe I should start wearing them and risk getting toxic shock again.





Here's the story. So we go to Boston. I get my period the day before. Our first day in Boston is spent touring the city. I wear white shorts. What in God's name was I thinking. We traipse all over the city, come back to my aunt's house, have cocktails, eat some take-out, stay up late talking. It is not until the next day when I going to get more clothes from my suitcase that I spot my white shorts. And they look like this:

No shit. So I fear I walked the city, rode the subway, and hung out with the relatives for a good 12 hours in these shorts. Who knew the pad wasn't holding up? I find myself asking how I could have missed this? It's not as if I'm in tenth grade again (yes, I was a late bloomer) getting it for the first time. It's also not as if I am an extremely heavy bleeder who soaks through pads by the hour. This was preventable, yet there it is. And it must have happened when I was sitting down because it is on the very obvious back of the shorts, not so much in the crotch.

Other than blood soaked shorts, the trip was great.

I Think I Have a Piece of Thong in My Eye

Did you hear the story about the woman who is suing Victoria's Secret because she was injured by her thong?

I'm not making this up. It was on Fox News.com this a.m.

Apparently, back in 2007 a 52 year old Los Angeles woman was putting on the skimpy underwear and a metallic piece popped off and hit her in the eye. She can sue me, too, for saying this, but she must be retarded. Otherwise, how does a metallic piece get from your ass to your eye, and what made it pop off in the first place? Does she have a particularly tight pair of butt cheeks whose intense pressure on the thong caused the the piece to pop off?

I have some other issues with this story:

-What is a 52 year old doing wearing a thong in the first place?

-What is a 52 year old doing wearing a thong with metallic pieces on it in the first place?

-If you are stupid enough to hit yourself in the eye with something while putting on your thong, why would you want to publicly acknowledge this by suing the company that made the thong?

This brings up another issue for me with thongs. I don't like them. I understand their purpose - to not show pantylines and all that. Personally, I would rather go commando than have a thong up my ass. The one time I tried wearing a thong, it irritated my inner crack so much I had to remove it in the middle of a party.

I also don't like the idea of anything being up any one's ass crack for a long period of time. If I were the inventor of thongs, they would all be disposable. You would buy a pack of 30 to last you a month. Because in my opinion, you can never really get that little g-string thing clean after it has been up there all day.

Another problem I have with the thong is that people wear them when they are on the rag. Did you know they actually make special pads just for thongs? I am not kidding. What is the point? Is it possible to really catch anything in the thumbnail crotch part of a thong? Isn't this just a recipe for disaster? Anyone who wears a pad in their thong almost deserves the drip drip that they might get down their leg.


A few minutes later:

Well, this is interesting. Stayfree, the makers of the thong pad, have discontinued the product. Imagine that. There is a small population of women out there who are outraged. They have contacted Stayfree to complain. Here is one comment made by a devastated pad-thong lover:

"My experience with the thong maxi seemed to be the answer to one of my many monthly gripes. I bought this product because I only wear thong underwear and regular pads didn't fit correctly. The sticky underside would wrap around the thong, sticking to itself, making removal a chore, sometimes a messy chore."

I find myself wondering what her other "monthly gripes" are. Toilet paper not soft enough? Belly button lint gets in the way of her piercing?

To conclude, I am not cruel-hearted. I hope Ms. Patterson, whose thong injured her, was not badly hurt. And I hope that she won't give up on the thong or on Victoria's Secret just because of this one minor incident. Who knows, she might make a nice chunk of change from VS and be able to buy a plethora of new thongs, preferably ones without metallic pieces on them. I am really glad she wasn't wearing a thong with rocks or BBs on it. That could have taken her whole eye out.

Bloody Costume!!

In connection with my last post - this is what I'm going to be for Halloween next year:

What Would You Do?

The kids and I went to the pool last evening for a dip. It was hot, Ken was going to be home late - it seemed a swell way to pass the time.

Admittedly, I am one of those moms who typically takes her kids places like the pool and the park, but I prefer to sit on the sidelines reading "People" or a good book rather than playing with the kids. I do get pangs of guilt about this, feeling as if I should be frolicking in the pool playing "Marco/Polo," but then I think back to my childhood and can barely remember a time when my mom or dad played tag with me on the school playground or did a tea party with me underwater. I think I turned out okay, and haven't talked to my therapist lately about their lack of participation in these things. I'm sure it probably scarred me somehow.

To my credit, I do occasionally play "Groundies" with the kids at the playground, mostly because this game is totally fun. And last evening, I did pick my butt off of the lounge chair for a minute to go down the fast slide with Sam. Oh, and I also timed Emma about 150 times to see how long she could hold her breath under water (the record was nine seconds, BTW). So maybe I am really not that lame.

But I digress. My point in saying all that is that between timing Emma and reading a paragraph here and there of my book, I like to people-watch. Longmont, CO has an interesting range of people, particularly at this public pool. There are many tattoos and piercings and enough cellulite to give Richard Simmons a boner. There are also many boob jobs, and nicely toned bodies. Last night, I picked out this one woman to observe. She was about my age, 40s, in good shape, blond and pretty perky. I'm not sure why I was watching her, but I was. I think I liked her bathing suit, and she looked familiar and I was trying to figure out where I knew her from. Or maybe I'm a lesbian trying to get out of the closet.

Time passes and when the kids and I get up to leave, I see Miss Perky leaning over to get something from her bag. Her suit was red, so it wasn't hard to notice a little white thing hanging down between her legs. Then it dawns on me - IT'S HER TAMPON STRING. I had a split second of wondering if I should tell her that her string was obviously hanging out the back, or if that would be too humiliating. But then it's probably even more humiliating to have the string hanging for hours and no one has told you. What would you do? Would you want a stranger to tell you? I, for one, can't wear tampons as I am the one person who actually got Toxic Shock Syndrome back in the 80s. I just swim with a diaper-sized pad and hope no one notices.

I got home and told Ken the story. He thought it was nice that this woman was "swimming with her friend."