9.05.2006

On Becoming A Woman...

As told by Bill:

"I was driving home from work and my cell phone rang. It was the home phone, so I knew it was one of the kids. When I answered, K. said to me the words that every father dreads hearing.

She had "started" and would need for me to pick up "provisions."

Staying calm, I told her not to worry, that I would stop and be home shortly.

I immediately hung up the phone and called my wife, Chris, who was still at work. She gave me explicit instructions on what to buy at the store. 'No biggie,' I thought.

I walked into the grocery store and found the aisle with the sign above proclaiming 'Feminine Needs.' I stared up and down the never-ending shelves filled with a million different types of products. I couldn't remember what Chris had told me to buy. There were pads with wings, pads without wings, nighttime, daytime, mid-morning, lite flow, heavy flow, travel packaged, and some that were even made for thongs. K. would not be wearing the type made for thongs.

I walked down to the end of the aisle and peeked around the corner, looking for any woman who might be able to help a guy find the right kind of feminine hygiene products for his daughter. I don't wear a wedding ring, so I figured that some woman would have pity on me and guide me in the right direction.

Apparently no women shop at Kroeger's at 3:30 on a weekday afternoon. Men only, as far as the eye could see.

I went back to the aisle and glared at the infinite number of choices. Blindly, I grabbed a package and began to make my way to the door.

I got home and walked in the door. K. was waiting for me, looking kind of like a deer in the headlights. I took her into the laundry room.

'Do you know how to use these?' I asked her.

She looked at me blankly and shook her head 'no.'

'Well, I don't either,' I told her, 'so we'll figure it out together.'

I opened the package and found that there were many more small packages inside of it. I took one of the small packages and tore it open. I pulled out the pad. It had these huge flaps hanging off the side. There was a strip on the back with the words 'Peel Here.' I peeled it back to reveal an adhesive strip that immediately attached itself to my hand. As I struggled to unstick myself, I heard K.'s voice.

'Dad?' the timid voice said. 'I think I can figure it out.'

A wave of relief washed over me. I shook the attached pad into the trash can and tried not to sprint out of the room.

Thank God that my younger child is a boy."

5 comments:

Blogarita said...

Most men are such wusses when it comes to this that I'm surprised they don't need "provisions" for themselves.

paula said...

wouldn't you have loved to be a fly on the wall!!

Dave Morris said...

I'm bulletproof with regard to that kind of shit, because I've had training... as a kid, my Mom used to make me walk to the store and purchase her personals for her. I always felt the need to tell the cashier "these aren't for me."

Shit, I was only 8. Yeah, I'm that good.

Fantastagirl said...

LOL... I think the cashier may have figured that out...but I might be wrong.

I used to work in a grocery store - nothing got the new stock boys to blush more, than when they had to restock that aisle.

Mr. Fabulous said...

Now if that isn't a Hallmark moment, I don't know what is! :)