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Y'all may have already read that I am just too immature (repressed, squeamish, Southern - insert your own thoughts here) to utter the clinical term for what I now prefer to call my Dixie Treasure. I don't care if I've pushed two babies out of it (okay, 1 1/2 to be precise - Princess E got seriously stuck and required a c-section, but you really don't want to hear the gory details), I still can't say it.
So this just pushes me completely over the edge.
I'll make a deal with all the environmentalists out there. I'll be happy to plant as many trees as necessary to counteract my...ahem...feminine hygiene product use if you promise to keep this thing far, far away from me.
And in a true OMG moment, come to find out the dang thing even comes in sizes. Wait, now they want to size my Dixie Treasure? Uh, I don't think so.
I'm sure it's a lovely product, and very useful to women who don't have sufficient access to...y'know...but EEEEWWWW!!!!!
I'm officially scarred for life - I don't think I can even buy Dixie cups again after this.
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1 comment:
The challenge is on! I'm buying some! I like the word diva and I want to prove you wrong. That's all there is to it. I'll let you know how it goes baby. You know why you can't "say" it? Because you are an actual diva yourself. Now there's some fightin' words!
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