Just when you’re starting to wonder what the hell you’re going to write about today…
Post baby, I decided to go with the new(er) and improved IUD as the form of birth control of choice. And, really, there wasn’t much of a choice for me. I was breastfeeding and didn’t really want to be on the pill. I have a latex sensitivity and precludes the use of standard issue condoms and, really, non standard issue condoms – while having their rightful place in the spectrum of Things People Should Use – really aren’t number one on my list. And, no, I wasn’t about to try the hey, I’m breastfeeding, so I theoretically have, like, six months where I might not get pregnant method.
Added little bonus for this IUD: it’s not uncommon to simply not get your period back.
That doesn’t mean your dear ol’ uterus always remembers that though, and there are occasional and generally barely bothersome lapses. Except for today. Today was not “barely bothersome”. And I was woefully underprepared: wrong kind of underwear for the wrong kind of stash of personal supplies. So, I had to go begging of a more appropriately equipped co-worker.
And, was I in for a treat! This particular co-worker had just returned a few weeks ago from a European vacation: a vacation during which she found cause to purchase tampons. In France.
Yes, I got a French tampon. oooooh la la! A well travelled, European tampon, bringing with it that air of mystery and sophistication that the entertainment industry tells me surrounds all things of this ilk. Unfortunately for it, there was no way it could have lived up to the high expectations I had set. I don’t really know what those expectations were, but I do know that it should have impressed me a lot more than it did. And the fact that, 1. it had a plastic applicator and 2. the plastic was a rather disturbing shade of fluorescent green, didn’t really help it gain any points.
Now, I am grateful and I do owe my co-worker a coffee, at least. Though, really, I’d of rather written the post in which I was the one in France.