So the neighbor across the street offered me something the other day. She received a free sample of a Stayfree maxipad in the mail. One pad. Did I want it?
She is not much older than I am in years, but in other ways, she is much older. In the way of requiring maxipads now and again, she is markedly older.
"I can't use it. Do you want it?"
Another neighbor, from next door, was also in my yard, chatting. She and I were both stunned into a moment of silent anxiety. There was ample opportunity for oversharing here. Though I felt maybe that boundary had already been crossed.
She was the first to politely decline. Her voice wavered, trying not to offend: "I wouldn't use it. I can't stand the---(looks side to side and whispers)--diaper feeling." Amazingly, despite the whispering of a word that could easily been interpreted as mother-baby talk, she gestured with her hand to draw attention to her crotch. In case we didn't get it. Ohhhhhhhhhh, we both said. What she's trying to say is, "I use tampons". She smiled apologetically, though, letting us know that if we, in fact, liked the diaper feeling, she wasn't going to judge.
It was just one pad. I suppose I could have taken it and dismantled the entire thing, recycling the cardboard box and coupons, throwing the pad and plastic away. But I didn't want to. Time to fess up. Hell, it could be fun maybe, sharing yourself with your neighbors, getting to know one another.
"I use pads, but mine are cloth."
There was an audible snapping sound as their heads turned sharply in my direction. What? Cloth? CLOTH PADS?? What is this thing you speak of?
When the first neighbor, repulsed by the diaper feeling, appeared that she might go into fits of dry heaves, I said, "Well, I also use cloth diapers once in a while, too, so it's not that different, really."
In strict politeness and nothing more, she shrugged it off, painted an accepting grin on her face, and nodded. Yeah. Just like that. I could see the visions of unrestrained poo and pee and menstrual blood which has not been locked into a wafer thin ultra-absorbent core swirling around in her head, threatening to overtake her. I looked away, to give her some privacy.
The other neighbor's approach was curiosity. "Really? Cloth pads? Like, just cloth?"
"Well, yes, it's just cloth. Like cloth diapers. But they don't feel like a diaper," I added quickly and I shot a glance at the first neighbor, trying to catch her in a grimace. "They just feel really soft. Like thicker underwear. Like a shoulder pad. For your crotch." There followed a quiet, thoughtful moment. I think the first neighbor and I were experiencing the awkwardness of realizing we had both admitted to knowing just exactly what it feels like to wear a diaper.
"Do they just sit in there? Like a square?"
"No, they're shaped the same, and they even have little wings and snaps. There is a waterproof barrier, just in case, but it's not crinkly or anything."
Both of them together looked into space and said, "huh". I knew they were both wondering if I was on my period right that minute. Possibly standing there with a big wad of cloth between my legs, bleeding all over the place.
I wasn't going to tell them that I do use disposables sometimes, when I am out. I had already thrown the grenade; there was nothing to be done. I guess I could have mentioned that I went to cloth because I couldn't quite get the hang of the Diva Cup.
