Waiting for The Tampon Deliveryman

Your Box Club Tampon Deliveryman

“In the olden days young women used to swoon over the Milkman, the Iceman, or the town eunuch. Me, I long for my favorite monthly visit – the Tampon Deliveryman. Every first of the month, I sit by my doorbell waiting for him to arrive. “It’s almost time to ride the cotton pony,” he says. I remind him: “That’s an organic cotton pony to you, sir!’” “Of course. Nothing but the best for a fine lady such as yourself!”
 
Day in and day out, I sit by my window waiting for him. The dreamy, sympathetic smile of my Tampon Deliveryman makes me giddy with delight, drowning out the painful cramps and bloating I feel when he’s not there.
 
As soon as I hear the ding-dong of my doorbell, I clap my hands with joy and run downstairs to greet him. There he is, in all his handsome glory: he gingerly hands me a box of fresh, organic tampons with that knowing look – it isn’t easy to find a handsome fellow who understands a girl’s monthly moods! But oh! He knows exactly how I’m feeling and understands me better than the Johnson boy down at the pharmacy.
 
With excitement, I pull a tampon out of the box. He stops me. “No,” he says. “Not yet. Wait for the right moment.” He was right. I don’t even have my period yet. He really is the perfect man!
 
He says it’s time for him to get going – but oops! He forgot to get my John Hancock on his clipboard. I would love to get his Hancock one of these days, but not this week, because I’ll soon be bleeding out of my vagina.
 
He runs back from his Prius in that fetching outfit of his, grabs a fountain pen from his pocket. He sees me frown. “Why the long face?” He asks as I palm my bloated, unsightly figure. He pulls a canister of extra-strength pain reliever from his front pocket. “These should do the trick.”
 
Gosh, what a guy.
 
Don’t get me wrong, I love boys – but my Tampon Deliveryman is just that – a man. He knows what I’m interested in at this special time of the month – a good listener. A shoulder I can irrationally cry upon – a pal.
 
Maybe another day we could paint the town red together, but right now, painting this ethical, organic tampon red will do.
 
Other boys scare away at the mere mention of feeling bloated. But my tampon deliveryman comes right to my aid. He’s always just a quick phone call or ‘electronic mail’ message away. Always there to cherish and support me through my toughest time of the month. And he’s always right on time.
 
Other boys will never admit when they’re wrong, but the Tampon Deliveryman understands the oppressive patriarchal influences that’ve made mainstream feminine products no good for my hoo-ha. He knows they’re a bunch of bologna too (you wouldn’t put bologna in your hoo ha, would you?). That’s why his tampon stash comes from Your Box Club, the place for conscious gals like me to get safe and healthful feminine products, right to my door.
 
As he leaves, I ask him, “Do you have a lady in your life?” and he winks at me with a knowing smile. “Only get to see her every 28 days. But she’s a real gem.”
 
Service like this almost makes a gal wish her period came more often.
 
Your Box Club offers premium organic tampons and feminine products delivered right to your doorstep. Visit them today at yourboxclub.com.