Girl Talk

Here's a conversation between me and Precocious Daughter.

But first, here's a little background.

In the bathroom we share, there are two packages of, um, feminine napkins. Why the hell are they called that? I will pay an Internet dollar to anyone who sends me a photograph of them using a maxi pad to wipe their mouth after nomming on some particularly greasy pizza pie.

It's so absorbent! And fresh!

Anyway, there are two packages because PDaughter likes the pads with wings. I don't. They're the training wheels of feminine hygiene products: If you even remotely know what you're doing, they're unnecessary. Also, they tend to stick to my pubes, if you must know. And that is unpleasant in the extreme.

Shown here: Ripping a piece of tape
from your genitals.

Anyway, I don't like wings, but she does. So OK, we stock both kinds. Except that I'm not exactly running through my supply. On account of impending menopause. On account of getting old. On account of...well, I don't really know why I'm getting old. It's not something I ever considered a goal.

Woo-hoo! I win, bitches!

And tonight, there was this:

PD: We have to go to the store.

Me: Why?

PD: I need pads.

Me: But I'm so tired. Just use mine.

PD: I don't like yours. They don't have wings.

Me: It makes no difference whether they have wings or not.

PD: I like wings.

Said in exactly this tone of voice.

Me: Can't you just use mine until tomorrow?

PD: NO.

Me: You know, it's starting to look as if I'm never going to use mine.

PD: What do you mean?

Me: I mean, you've had, like, four periods since I last had one.

PD: Really?

Me: Yes, really. I think my eggs may be dried up.

PD: *does this, basically*

PD: You're all dried up! *laughs gleefully*

Me: Whatever. Get in the car.

She got her goddamn winged maxi pads. I highly resent that she even menstruates, to be honest. After all, she's only six. In my mind. 

I don't even want to think about her ever asking me what it means if she misses her period. Wings seem like a pretty good goddamn thing when you look at it that way.

Sorry, male Drunkards. I'll write about something slightly more gender-neutral next time. I promise/hope/think.