There is a particularly violent sneeze, a pause, a face-scrunch to one particular side, a odd wiggle-type shimmy and a groan. Yes, you've just witnessed a woman with good kegel control push her tampon halfway out.
I'm here to inform you, the public, that it is impossible to wiggle back onto your tampon. Goodness knows I've tried. Of course with me this always happens when I'm out in public without a spare on me, or heaven forbid I have a spare but it's one of those God-awful Ob tampons that don't have applicators. My mom bought me an economy size case of them from Walmart one time because they were on 'Sale.' One fine spring day she calls to tell me she's bought me tampons and is so proud of herself; she's finally accepted her only daughter wearing tampons.(She's always thought I was trashy because I refuse to walk around in what amounts to the 'Juniors' section of adult diapers. You get comfortable in a maxi pad and it's a slippery slope from there to urinating in your undergarments because you cannot miss a single episode of the Nanny marathon. Because you haven't seen them all.) I go to pick up said tampons and immediately shriek in terror and loathing. She hands me some line about looking a gift horse in the mouth and I explain that they don't have applicators. She processes that and then says 'I wondered how there were able to fit 500 of them in a Kleenex box.'
Ever observant she is. Ever observant and facetious. I still maintain it was her way of sticking it to me for being a skanky modern woman who doesn't relegate herself to a dark corner of her basement room if there is a pool party while on the rag. By the way, the code word for the string hanging out of your bathing suit is 'Ice Cream.' Next time you're at a public pool and an adult woman screams 'Ice Cream,' she's not trying to incite a riot among the 10 and younger crowd. She's informing her friend that her tampon string has become the newest accessory to her bathing ensemble. It doesn't hurt that screaming 'Ice Cream' normally distracts every child and adult male long enough for the affected party to recover the rogue pull-cord. Anyways the point being is that my mother associates my usage of tampons with the lack of a hymen. Which may or may not be true.
In general it sucks being on the rag. Gone are the days when the men shut the women up in a tent with one another and let them sit for the better part of a week giggling and carrying on.
I figure this is why whenever you get 3 or more us together at a time in a space sans men we always have period talk. This is quickly followed by a close comparison of the member of the person with which we had out last sexual encounter with, as we're wont to do. Complete with diagrams, gestures and comparisons to random food items. Cucumber good, cinnamon stick bad.
So the next time you see a girl sneeze, stop and psuedo-break-it-down to the 'muzak' in the department store you'll know she's on the rag and just partially shat out her tampon. Or she's clearly psycho because she appreciates the muzak. In which case, take that girl out and introduce her to some applicator-less tampons. She can waste some time figuring out how that works and maybe become less socially awkward.