When I was reading this hilarious entry over on MamaTulip’s site, I laughed. But then I read Katie of Motherbumper‘s comment on the entry. She said this:

I double checked, and you are right, there is nothing in the vows about that but there is a clause that states HE must be able to select and purchase the correct flow-requirements and preferred brand of feminine protection without breaking a sweat or being embarrassed. It’s a double standard really, but fair trade I think.

That sparked a memory from November that still makes me laugh so hard that I just had to share.

I know that there actually are men out there who are so squeamish about a woman’s period that they can’t even bring themselves to walk into a pharmacy and buy pads for their wife. While I understand that different people are embarrassed by different things, I’ve never really gotten the aversion some men have to picking up a pack of pads and paying for them. I mean, it’s not like anyone is going to think they’re buying them for themselves, right?

I’m lucky though. George occasionally rolls his eyes or jokingly refuses to buy me any when I put them on the list or ask him to pick some up on his way home, but he truly has no problem with buying them. It probably helps that I’m not all that picky. If I’m in the store buying them myself, there are specific brands and types and blablabla that I prefer, but if I’m on the phone asking him to buy pads, I don’t really care. For the most part they tend to work really well regardless of brand.

That means he doesn’t have to pay much attention to what he’s buying and he usually just strolls down the feminine hygiene aisle looking for the one that’s on sale for the lowest price.

This can, apparently, be a mistake.

One day I asked him to pick some pads up while he was out. And by “ask” what I really mean is that I moaned, “Oh my GOD, I need some fucking pads, oh my god, cramps, augh!” To that he responded with a negative, at which point I said, “fine, I’ll just use your socks again” and he scratched his head and asked, “oh is that what was wrong with them last month?” I know. We’re dorks.

So off he went and he bought all the stuff he was supposed to get and then he came home with a few bags. I started unpacking groceries and putting things away, and then from the bottom of the last bag, I pulled out a package. And I stared, somewhat incredulous. And then I started to laugh hysterically.

Maybe I need to develop brand loyalty after all, and demand ONLY that pad from now on. Because George bought me Poise “discreet bladder protection” pads.

Really, it was a dangerous mistake. I don’t know about you, but my PMS can swing pretty wildly. I *could* have gone completely batshit crazy and started crying. Luckily I was on an “up” swing right then and the only tears were from the laughter. I laughed so hard that I’m surprised I didn’t pee my pants.

Too bad, really, because dude, I was totally prepared for loss of bladder control.