My husband has been my husband for 18 years and still refuses to understand more about the world of feminine products past “Buy exactly this at the store” – box shoved in his face, or photo texted to him.
This went sideways last week when he went to Costco and they were out of “exactly this.” He came home with totally the wrong thing. Now we have a huge box of 120 of the wrong things.
I had told him to get a reasonable equivalent and he came home with an unreasonable facsimile. I said I trusted his judgment because he’s smart, but I forgot to account for a lack of willingness.
I imagine he stood blindfolded in the Costco pad section, spun in circles, and threw an imaginary dart. I think this is like how any word I say to my dog after “Walk” is no sound and my lips just moving.
At the time, I tried to explain to him the basic layout of feminine products. “Panty liners, pads, and tampons. That’s it. There’s all these side options, but those are the basics,” I outlined.
“But there’s all these other words like ‘wings’ or ‘extra long,'” he complained.
“Just ignore it and get the basic, regular item,” I patiently guided. Or misguided, as history demonstrates.
Therefore, it forced me to go to Longs to get what I needed. He was with me. I should have left him at home, but since he was standing in the aisle with me, I thought I’d helpfully teach him, now with visual aids, what’s what.
I figure we have a daughter who will probably ask this of him in the future. Maybe he’ll try for her sake. Try, Claus, try to understand feminine napkin strategy. Do it for your child!
I repeated the above lesson and he sighed, “Are we having this conversation again?”
“Look. It’s not hard. Just try,” I cajoled.
He looked at two versions of Carefree brand panty liners and asked, “So, there’s Long Longs and Thong Thonga?” (It’s actually spelled tanga.) I nodded and acknowledged there are way too many marketing-driven choices these days, but if you stop and think about what those words mean, you’ll get it.
He whined. He never whines, but he whined. “But look at this,” and he set two more products side by side. “Why does this say ‘Thin’ and this other one say ‘Ultra Thin,’ but the ‘Ultra Thin’ is thicker than the ‘Thin’ one?”
“You have to read the label,” I repeated. “Then you’ll see it’s a thin panty liner, but an ultra thin pad. Pads are thicker than liners.” I do see where that’s confusing.
Curses, Capitalism! I imagine in Stalin’s time there were just two or three choices, starkly but clearly labeled for Group B rationing days. I’m sure Leningrad husbands rejoiced the ease of shopping for their wives back then.
In my quest for a clear pad model, I rather creatively said, “Think of it like buying a coffee at Starbucks. You have the basic idea, then all these side choices you can apply to your order.”
This only served to distract him. “So I should go to Longs and order a Tall Longs Longa? A Macchiato with wings?”
Forget it. I give up. I realize this is what Safeway Delivery is for.