Most days when Mrs Under sets off to make some metaphorical bacon she leaves behind a little list. It’s not a list of all the different ways she loves me, it’s a list of all the little chores that need doing by the Chore Fairy. I was perusing yesterday’s list;
Do something with your clothes that have been slung over the desk chair for the past 3 weeks
Clean the floors (don’t go around the high chair just move it)
Get something healthy for dinner, pizza is not healthy
Buy me a packet of tampons
I looked at the word again, hoping that I might have read it wrong and it actually says Pom Poms or Bon Bons or beer or anything but tampons. Nope I checked in the dictionary and that is definitely how you spell tampons. I would do anything for my wife but this is stretching even ‘anything’ to its outer most limits.
This is a husband test, she probably doesn’t even need them she just wants to see if I’m up to the job. I’ll bloody well show her. I stride nonchalantly into the supermarket bristling with confidence and determination. So confident am I that I even ask the man stacking packets of egg noodles “where is the tampon aisle please?”.
I navigate my way to aisle 17 and into the heart of Tampon World, I thought for a moment I was in the chocolate aisle so pretty are the little boxes. It’s not quite as straight forward as I was hoping, there are different sizes and quantities and prices and strengths, it’s a bit like buying coffee in that regard. I get some funny looks from my fellow shoppers but I imagine they are simply thinking “wow who is this guy that buys his wife’s tampons, that’s really sexy in a post modern kind of way”.
I resist the strong temptation to buy the cheapest ones and call base camp. “You’re actually going to do it? I underestimated you Mr Ross.” I receive my instructions (I won’t share with you the particular brand of tampon my wife prefers, that would be odd) and make my way to the cashier, the young, hot, cashier. This is not fair I want an old, un-hot, man, wit hbad BO and a beer belly, where is he when you need him? I put the tampons down trying my hardest to hide them behind a packet of rice and some soy sauce. Unfortunately the purples and pinks of the box don’t camouflage all that well and I see the cashier clock them and then clock me.
Whatever you do do not look her in the eyes. I wonder what she’s thinking, I thought, is she thinking, that guy is very cool to be buying his wife tampons or is she thinking why the F is this guy buying tampons what a weirdo. She filled the first bag up with the food and asked me if I wanted a second bag? A special tampon bag? “Errr no, I think you can probably squeeze them in”.
She looked at me again, this time with a cheeky little grin, the sort of grin that suggested I might have unintentionally said something that she found amusing. And then it became a laugh and suddenly right before my eyes check out chick was laughing at a joke I accidentally made about tampons. So this is what tampon shopping victory tastes like! I got the right tampons, I did so without humiliating myself and I even managed to spread a little happiness in the process. I am literally counting down the days until I can go tampon shopping again, how many days is it again?
Would you ask your man to do this for you? Would he do this for you? If so what unintentional joke might he make to the cashier?