Credit: Polina Zimmerman

For Real Though, Where Did My Tampon Go?

PUBLISHED November 4, 2015

This past weekend I finally got some. And I mean…THANK GOD because I was to that level of horiness where your eyes glaze over in the middle of the day because you’re lost in thought fantasizing about every mildly attractive man you’ve ever come in contact with. I’ve discovered about myself long ago that the longer I go without sex, the less of a rational human being I become.

I love lust, and followers of this blog are like “yeah, duh, we know, there are dicks everywhere on this thing.” But I really do. And it’s super-ultra-near-impossibly-hard for me now that my boyfriend is away on tour and I’m living this congenial life of single mom to two cats with a full time job.

Weekends, to me, are for pouring up a vodka/water/lime juice, taking forty minutes in the shower to wash, shave, sugar scrub, then re-wash your hot bod, lathering on cocoa butter, matching a lacy pair of boyshorts to a lacy push up bra that you twist around until your tits are up to your chin, taking sluty selfies with your girlfriends, and then going out and getting inappropriately touched by a guy you’re, you have to admit, not that mad is inappropriately touching you.

This isn’t to say I’m not SUUUUUPER happy and in love and blah blah blah. More so just calling attention to my basic human nature. And how these weeks really drag on knowing there’s no rock hard dick waiting for me come Friday.

I’m losing my point here.

Kind of like I lost the tampon.

…somewhere inside my body.

So anyway. My plan was to fly out and meet Boyfriend in bumble-fuck Wichita, Kansas (apologies to any bumble-fuck Wichitians) get it on all weekend, and then fly home in a fucked-semi-senseless coma…in time for work on Monday, mind you.

Then along comes my wack-ass period to ruin the party. Lucky for me…my boyfriend is a FREAK. I mean capital F freak. Which I guess is redunit given that this is a typed post.

So…I put a tampon in in the morning, go to work, rush out around 2PM to catch my flight, touch down in Kansas, meet up with Boyfriend, and the whole time I’m thinking…fuck, I have to take this thing out at some point. Here I’m planning on having a hot, drawn out foreplay-style sex-sesh and I have this tampon in me totally killing my vibe.

When we get to the hotel it’s like, enough is enough, “Bae, I gotta take my tampon out.” (He knew I was on my period. Benefit of long-term relationship status) So I go to take out my tampon…and I’m fumbling around, and my tampon is just no where to be found. I stick my fingers all the way up to the point that I feel like I’m somehow touching my ass hole or something and, like, nothing.

So then bae ventures up there, damn near up to his elbow, and guess what?

No. Fucking. Tampon.

And because the two of us together have the common sense of a hot cheeto we’re both like whoa! our sex chemistry is so strong that the tampon EVAPORATED from sheer will power and the period is TOTALLY OVER!! 

So we enjoy a whole weekend of mysteriously blood free sex and I return to work on Monday to my very rational (and classically anxious in that Jewish woman type of way) boss and am like, “Yeah a tampon just disappeared from my vagina, it was super weird.”

And, reasonably so, my boss is like, “Girl…you need to go to the fucking doctor. That thing is probably stuck inside you. And you’ll probably get toxic shock syndrome. And die.”

(Last part added for effect)

So, now I’m like, oh fuck…she makes a good point. Much better than Boyfriend’s point of the sex Gods had our backs. So I go to @plannedparenthood the next day. And the physician’s assistant spreads me open with those vagina-spreader things, and she pokes around my pussy like Laura Croft Tomb Raider, and by-golly there’s no tampon in sight.

So me and the physician’s assistant just giggle and giggle about this little mishap. And then we chat about BV (bacterial vaginitis) and HPV, and pap smears in that friendly way that you do with someone who’s just swabbed you up to your cervix.

And then, well, I go and get on with my life.

This story is all to say a few things:

1. Never stop believing in magic. Sometimes when you wish hard enough, your wildest dreams will come true. And your pussy can develop the supernatural ability to not only stop periods by sheer will power, but also dissolve and evaporate feminine hygiene products.

2. Fucking #StandWithPlannedParenthood I mean, I’m new to New York city, my insurance doesn’t take effect until later this month, where on earth ELSE could you go for something like this?

3. Always have a hypochondriac somewhere in your friend group. You need someone around who worries irrationally about things so that if you’re a person like me, you don’t wind up potentially dying from something that would be horrifically embarrassing to say over your grave at a funeral.

Good night. And God love the drunks and dumbies.

Content text