"Girls shouldn't have to pay for tampons" a Facebook status reads. It was written by a topless, orange guy, which is quite a refreshing and different sight compared to the endless droning on the "friendzone" and how girls shouldn't sleep with guys and get their nipples out etc. However, cynical nature aside, I agree with this boy's statement, and, eager to see if anyone else does, I click on the comments. What I saw was quite horrific, and, to this day, haunts every feminine aspect about me, and makes my nipples invert in horror (I would post a picture to prove but...).
"Women should pay for tampons because guys pay for condoms." A scrawny figure in a haggard Nike cap holding a can of Strongbow affirms. I re-read it. Over. And over. People like this exist. They are walking amongst us. You may have sat next to one of the bus yesterday.
Tampons and condoms aren't within the same spectrum. It's an obvious declaration and yet one that clearly needs to be made. You choose to have sex, You choose to use a condom, You choose your methods of contraception. However, what you don't choose is when a cascade of blood plummets from your "princess parts". Furthermore, I enjoy sex. I love sex. Sex is absolutely amazing when done correctly. Periods aren't fun. You can try to make them fun, but ultimately succeed. I don't mind paying for condoms, because it's for something I have chosen and enjoy to do.
What's more though, is that condoms are free from most clinics and doctors. So in most cases, guys don't even have to buy condoms.
And in most cases (from personal experience) guys don't even supply a condom. How many times must we hear "I'll pull out", "it feels better without" or worse still "I just want to feel closer and more intimate with you". Ermm, no, put a glove on it dear. You don't have to deal with the same consequences that I do. Oh, you don't have one? NO PROBLEMO, FRIENDO.
It's not paying for tampons that I actually mind, even. I don't mind paying for manufacturing costs (ha ha as if any of the money goes there, anyway), but tampons are counted as a luxury. The fact I don't leak scarlet murder all over my cute panties isn't a luxury, its a necessity. It's almost as if those in power think I have the money to buy panties for days. Some biscuits aren't luxuries, but I'd rather indulge in a biscuit and a cup of tea than indulge in a period.
I'm intrigued as to what people feel about this, so drop a comment below to inform me. I've seen it be disputed brutally lately and wanted to voice my opinion on it. I never thought about it until I saw somebody compare tampons to condoms- such a contrast pushed me over the edge.
Monday, April 6, 2015
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Lust
Finding yourself is never easy,
Especially when you try and find yourself,
In a maze, in a labyrinth of beds,
The beds of wolves, the beds of bears,
And even worse the beds of men.
One day his hand will reach out to you,
And it will glow the brightest gold that you ever saw,
So much that it's shine will blind you at first,
Oh! How the love will blind you,
And how it blinds today
And blinds, and blinds,
Destroying rationality.
Shun his hand, shut him out,
You won't make that mistake again.
Don't neglect your reason, your logic,
Just for him to strip you down.
Because one day it won't be a hand that reaches out to you,
One day it'll be an entire body,
And it won't lift you out of the maze,
Just to drop you back in it.
It'll guide you through every winding turn,
And it'll strip off your layers,
And it'll kiss your shoulders, pull your hair,
It'll get close to showing you love, but won't,
Because it knows that love isn't something to be feigned.
It won't be a wolf, it won't be a bear,
The body won't devour you at dawn,
It'll make you breakfast, not make you it's breakfast.
And the love won't come very fast,
It might come when you're doing a crossword,
Playing poker,
It might come when you're together,
Or alone.
The love might attack you in the supermarket,
"Unexpected item in bagging area" indeed.
But the love will be more tender, more profound
And it'll wrap you up in it's tender arms, hold you close, hold you dear.
The body will share your excitement on stormy nights,
Share your arousal on passionate nights,
It'll lift you high above the lust of the world below.
It'll make you see reason, it'll encourage you to say "no".
It penetrates the false, it highlights truth.
The body will love you back, more and more everyday,
It won't say good bye, it won't leave your side,
A rarity, of course.
It'll know exactly how you want to be fucked, how you want to be loved, how you like your bacon crispy, how you don't like the white of egg, how you laugh, how you cry,
It'll know the meaning of every facial expression,
It'll recite your favourite colour, film, band, book,
It'll gaze at you adoringly in it's baggy jumpers and your own knee socks,
It'll pull you closer during a fight.
It won't be violent, but will match the passion in you.
And every little lust you ever felt,
Won't even fucking matter.
Especially when you try and find yourself,
In a maze, in a labyrinth of beds,
The beds of wolves, the beds of bears,
And even worse the beds of men.
One day his hand will reach out to you,
And it will glow the brightest gold that you ever saw,
So much that it's shine will blind you at first,
Oh! How the love will blind you,
And how it blinds today
And blinds, and blinds,
Destroying rationality.
Shun his hand, shut him out,
You won't make that mistake again.
Don't neglect your reason, your logic,
Just for him to strip you down.
Because one day it won't be a hand that reaches out to you,
One day it'll be an entire body,
And it won't lift you out of the maze,
Just to drop you back in it.
It'll guide you through every winding turn,
And it'll strip off your layers,
And it'll kiss your shoulders, pull your hair,
It'll get close to showing you love, but won't,
Because it knows that love isn't something to be feigned.
It won't be a wolf, it won't be a bear,
The body won't devour you at dawn,
It'll make you breakfast, not make you it's breakfast.
And the love won't come very fast,
It might come when you're doing a crossword,
Playing poker,
It might come when you're together,
Or alone.
The love might attack you in the supermarket,
"Unexpected item in bagging area" indeed.
But the love will be more tender, more profound
And it'll wrap you up in it's tender arms, hold you close, hold you dear.
The body will share your excitement on stormy nights,
Share your arousal on passionate nights,
It'll lift you high above the lust of the world below.
It'll make you see reason, it'll encourage you to say "no".
It penetrates the false, it highlights truth.
The body will love you back, more and more everyday,
It won't say good bye, it won't leave your side,
A rarity, of course.
It'll know exactly how you want to be fucked, how you want to be loved, how you like your bacon crispy, how you don't like the white of egg, how you laugh, how you cry,
It'll know the meaning of every facial expression,
It'll recite your favourite colour, film, band, book,
It'll gaze at you adoringly in it's baggy jumpers and your own knee socks,
It'll pull you closer during a fight.
It won't be violent, but will match the passion in you.
And every little lust you ever felt,
Won't even fucking matter.
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