Disposable sanitary pads - a heartfelt breakup letter

Dear disposable sanitary pads,

I’m leaving you. I cheated on you with reusables and found my muff’s true love.

We’ve had a long and bloody history together though, so I feel I owe you an explanation. There are so many reasons why we aren’t compatible - I hope you understand them, in so far as you can, being a sanitary towel...

• This is awkward, but basically, you smell. When I’ve been wearing you for a while, or when you’ve been sitting around in the bin all day, you just get a bit...stale. And that doesn’t make me feel good. Maybe if you were more absorbent or made of more natural fibres? You should think about that.

• You always get my pubes stuck on your sticky side, and it hurts. How many times have I cried as you give me a tiny bikini wax? We can’t go on like this. It’s too painful.

• You’ve got commitment issues. I mean, you soak up a bit of blood, and then, just like that, you’re gone. Are you afraid of my blood? My period is a natural part of me, and if you can’t accept that, then I’m afraid we have no future. Reusables are in it for the long haul.

• Your mates. Seriously. I don’t want the rest of your sanitary pad crew hanging around my bathroom cupboard and taking up all my space. I get that you come in massive packs, but I want my bathroom back, damn it!

• I think you mean well but, basically, you chafe me. Look - maybe it’s just me. I guess I’m a little more KitKat Chunky down there than other ladies with smaller, neater fingers. But still - I just feel a bit abused, and I won’t tolerate violence. Especially on my Chunky

• Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you might be a bit of a controlling creep. No offence, obvs. But you really cost me a fortune and then send all my money to guys in mega corporations who tell me how much I need you and pretend that my period blood is blue. I’m not sure that’s cool.

• You don’t clean up after yourself, and you and your buddies are basically shitting up the environment. It’d be nice if you were a bit more considerate sometimes rather than waiting for Mamma Nature to sort out your mess.

• I just don’t get you. What are you made of? Polyolefins? What even is that, dude? Fanny doesn’t like dubious plastic on her bits.

• Maybe this is brutal, but you’re kind of plain looking. I kind of like my pads with a bit more...verve and panache...a bit of flair and sophistication. Looking at your sorry plastic face bores me.

• You’re always trying to get up my bum! I hate that. I mean, I like a bit of sauce as much as the next gal, but you’re no Christian Grey and kinky butt stuff is not on the menu.

So I hope this helps explain things. I hope you can move on too, maybe change a bit, and find someone or something else to rub against in the future. In the meantime, I can’t promise I won’t ask my mates to take sides but I trust we can be polite when we bump into each other in public loos. And I may still give you a call when I’m out of town or when the washing machine breaks - you’re my number one back up when I’m after a dirty one pad stand.

You take care now,

Fanny