At least referring to it as "The Curse" had some dignity

I don't like to talk about my own personal bodily functions, especially when they are female-specific. To be honest, I'm downright squeamish about it. Unfortunately, the subject matter at hand outs me as someone who has to deal with being "up on blocks" for a few days a month. Even worse, I have to admit to buying Libra Invisible BodyFit Pads. Now, I really don't want to get into the hows and whys of my choice of feminine protection, I will simply say that most women would rather buy some extra insurance than risk having that "Carrie" moment we all know and dread.

Now that I have awkwardly explained why I am in possession of sanitary napkins, let's examine why they are blog-worthy:

Oh, look how cute and stylish. How very Paul Smith! Ok, whatever. Now to peel off the backing and stick the pad to your knickers.

Um...What. The. Fuck. I'm shedding uterine lining here, people, not taking a coffee and Metamucil assisted morning constitutional. Thanks for the reading material on the back of my crotch-pad, but it's not exactly a cereal box, now is it? Also, to the wiseass who decided to call these maxi-pad factoids "Odd Spots", while I normally applaud such irreverence, I'm going to withhold my kudos this time. Sometimes a little shame is a good thing.