Erica Lucke Dean

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seriously...eight dollars a box?

Ok, I’m going there. I am. You can’t stop me…don’t even try. So, if you’re easily offended, you might want to brace yourself. I’m about to cross a line I’ve always tried to avoid.

Sure…I write about PMS. A lot. But I never go there. I never actually bring up the dreaded feminine hygiene products. Well…that was then.

This is now.

I had to go buy tampons today, and I have just one thing to say. Are you really going to charge a woman on the edge eight dollars a box for tampons? Do you hear me? A. Woman. On. The. Edge! I mean, seriously…eight dollars? Do you have any idea how many of these things we go through? And it’s not like they’re woven out of precious metals…or even cashmere. We’re talking cotton.

Cotton!

I’m seriously considering a boycott…I’m not even close to letting this drop…but it’ll have to wait until next week. I’m not exactly myself right now. I’m likely to bite someone’s head off or something. Although, that might put a fright into them. I should go into the store with a Barbie doll and bite the head off as a show of…something. I don’t know what.

With my luck I’d get arrested for terroristic threats, or some crazy thing.

Then again…I suppose I’d have a valid excuse.

Until the next time…I’ll be biting the heads off imaginary Barbies.