Seriously, I have all this stuff to do that I'm doing an excellent job at putting off. Having my computer working made me remember how distracting computers are, and all I want to talk about is how annoying my uterus is, but I'm trying this new thing where I practice some small degree of self-censorship.

So let's talk tampons! (Just stop reading now if you don't like to think about bodily functions).

My favourite item on the little insert that comes with my o.b.s is not the ever popular "If I'm a virgin, can I still use a tampon?" or the diagram that clearly differentiates the vagina and the urinary opening because they're so easy to mix up or even "Can a tampon get lost inside my body?" but the part at the end where they tell you in bold-face font to "Wash your hands" after inserting the tampon.

These tampons don't come with an applicator. They're basically saying "Don't just go walking around without washing after you've stuck your finger in your bloody twat."*

Anyway, I think a little part of me died the day I realized that "tampon" came from the verb tamp, as in to pack tobacco into a pipe. Seriously, contemplate it. I picture Aloysius J. Tampax sitting there in his study, stroking his beard, thinking "There must be a better way to protect women's clothing from their monthly blood" when he decided to take his pipe down from his pipe rack. He started putting the tobacco in the bowl and then a giant lightbulb appeared over his head. It's all very Father Knows Best.

*I hate the word twat. But there are no good colloquialisms for "vagina."