Periods, Condoms, Road Trips, and Truck Stops

The family traveled up to my mom's for Veteran's Day weekend. We left early Friday. Whenever we go visit Mom (a 3 hour trip), we always stop at Laval Road West on the north side of the Grapevine on I-5. It's about halfway between our house and Mom's. With food, gas, and clean bathrooms, it's a good place to stop, stretch the legs, and powder the nose. After two hours or so in the car, Lily and I are always ready to powder our noses. We pull in and park. Lily and I do the usual and make a beeline for the bathroom.

Now, mind you, this place started as a truck stop, and despite all of the new fast food joints (McD's, Panda Express, In-N-Out, Chipotle, Starbucks, Subway, Wendy's, etc.) being built there to service all of the travelers, it's still a favorite stop for truckers too. There's even a coffee shop in the original building with a little convenient store.

We always go to this building with the coffee shop because this is where the bathrooms not attached to any restaurant are. When you walk in, the coffee shop is to your right. If you turn left, you'll get Wendy's. Just past the coffee shop is a tiny Baskin-Robbins, and just beyond that are the bathrooms. If you walk a little further down past the bathrooms, there are showers and other amenities. Across from the bathroom is the convenient store.

Lily and I ignore everything before the bathroom. Mother Nature is calling, after all.

I'm feeling great and then I notice it. Crap! I've started my period. I shouldn't have started my period, but I have. And, of course, I have nothing with me because, well, I shouldn't have.

So, I take care of business and stroll across the hall to the convenient store in search of pads. I wander through the store, scanning the shelves, until I see some toiletries. If they are going to have anything for females, it should be in this area. But as I scan the shelves, I can't find anything. I'm about to turn away when I see condoms on the top shelf. Several different kinds of condoms. Probably about eight different types of condoms to choose from. From Trojan to Durex to some other brands. From ultra thin to "ribbed for her pleasure" to who knows what else (maybe even the vibrating kind I've heard so much about). If they were going to have pads, they had to be around this area somewhere.

Aha! There, buried two shelves down, were my choices: Tampax tampons and Stayfree Maxipads. Wow! That's some selection! o.O Tampons (not unless I'm swimming) or throwback pads from the 80s. Yay! Lucky me! Then I look at the price. $5.69.

Holy smackerole! Five dollars and sixty-nine cents for--I pull the package out--six pads. Ooookkkkaaayyy.

Out of options, I took my booty over to the register and paid, even as I chuckled about the condoms. So many options for condoms, but only two, very hard to find options for women in dire need.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

We know the audience they cater to. (grin) I guess I should just count myself lucky I was able to find pads at all. Heaven forbid women should actually have periods and men should happen to accidentally see sanitary napkins. If they do, maybe they'll be turned off and not need the condoms anymore.

Stinky Feet and Aunt Tilly’s Visit

Welcome today's guest author, Jennifer Johnson!

Years ago, when I was collaborating with a friend on a story, the topic of feet came up. My friend suggested I take the socks off my hero.

“Bare ankles on a man are so sexy when he’s wearing shoes.” She heaved one of those girly sighs. You know the type of sigh-heaving I mean.

“Seriously?” I said in disbelief. “If a man wears no socks then his feet stink.”

No. I couldn’t let my hero wear shoes without socks, and yet if as the all-powerful creator of this hero, I can bare his feet, can’t I create them without bad odor? How far is the reader willing to go with me in my story with her suspension of disbelief? Will she believe a man would sleep naked in bed with a woman and only cuddle her, but not believe he has body odor? Where’s the line?

As I reflect on the eye rolling I’ve done when I’ve labored through a really dumb passage in a book or my own sigh-heaving when I’ve read a page that simply melts my heart at the well-written romance, I’ve decided what we want is the realm of possibility. We want the meaningful moments, but never the awkward ones. After all, don’t we have enough of those “wish the floor would swallow me up in my embarrassment” moments in real life?

Take, for instance, our monthly cycles. Period. Menstruation. Aunt Tilly’s visit. Whatever you want to call it. Now I’ve read a lot of romance books, and the only time a heroine thinks about her period is when it’s late, and she’s thinks she’s pregnant. I’ve never read a scene in which the hero and heroine are hot and heavy with each other, and she says, “Wait, honey, before you go down on me, I just want you to know I’m on my period.” It seems to me how the guy reacts to that statement is going to brand him as a true romantic hero or my brother. Why my brother? Well, as a teenager I may have chased him around the house with a used sanitary pad. He was four years older than I was so to get that kind of reaction out of him was awesome. However, it also taught me that males think period blood is disgusting.

Come on, people. Women menstruate once a month. Our romantic heroines also menstruate. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have so many plots in which she has to work things out with her baby daddy.

Is the actual menses akin to smelly feet? We’d rather not read about leakage unless it has to do with vaginal lubrication or semen? Really? I readily admit I cannot stand weeping unless it is coming from a woman’s eyes. And also I do not want to read about hot spurting. You know what I’m talking about.

But back to Aunt Tilly’s monthly visit. If I wanted reality, I suppose I’d close the book. But isn’t menstruation one of the core symptoms of the feminine? Are we turned off from it because it’s not sexy to be fertile? Or is it the double standard that the sign of a woman’s fertility (her period) is deemed gross whereas a man’s sign of fertility (his semen) is his biggest demonstration of sexuality so that we loooove to read about it in all its spurted glory?

I think it might be an interesting exercise to have a heroine bloated and crampy, and to let the hero react to her in her feminine menstruating state in a true, romantically heroic way. And what would that way be?

Wax poetically about the dark red color on her panties?

Fetch some chocolate, tampons, and Midol from Kroger?

Get the heck out of her face and go wash his freakin’ stinky feet?

***

Jennifer Johnson’s newest book is Double Dog Dare from Turquoise Morning Press. So far none of her heroes have waxed poetically about menstruation. Nor do they have stinky feet.

The Blurb:

We’re all mad here.
~The Cheshire Cat

When Cheris McDowell wakes up in a hotel room next to the husband she doesn’t remember meeting, she decides the only practical solution is a quiet divorce.

Too bad the rest of the world disagrees.
As an Internet advice guru, Cheris ought to know how to fix the mess she woke up to, but when her own web master conspires to keep the marriage going, Cheris is at a loss.

Geoff Arrowood III, her new husband, isn’t helping the situation. He’s way too charming and looks a little too good in a Tuxedo.

Will Cheris choose a little storybook madness or the sensible advice of the wisdom she’s followed all her life?

The Excerpt:

Drink Me

“I dare you,” her companion murmured.

“I don’t take dares,” Cheris replied shooting him a disdainful look.

“What about a double dog dare?” He winked, and Cheris’ stomach fluttered. “Do you take those?”

It was silly, really, letting this stranger impel her to anything. Squaring her shoulders she stepped forward into the looking glass and retrieved the drink. Bringing it to her lips, she sipped once and discovered it to be mild yet sweet—similar to cantaloupe in the peak of its season.

“Mmm. Very nice.” She tilted the cup and drained it. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.” She licked her lips and tilted her head. Picking up another glass, she set the empty one in its place. “Go over there and drink one.”

The man raised his eyebrows, but walked to the chair. They faced each other as he determined the correct glass to pick up.

“Yes. That’s the one.” Cheris drank from the second glass enjoying the cool liquid. “I’ve got to find out what this stuff—oh!” She gasped as she tripped over the frame.

At once he was at her side steadying her. “Careful there, Alice. It’s the rabbit hole you’re supposed to fall into.”

Oh. My. Goodness.

Cheris’ hands were on his arms, her fingers sliding over the material, reveling in the solid flesh underneath. She raised her face and blinked up at him. “Whoever you may be,” she drawled. “I have always depended on kindness in strangers.”

Like what you read? Click on Double Dog Dare for the book link at Turquoise Morning Press.

If the link doesn’t work, the URL is below.

http://www.turquoisemorningpress.com/2011/06/double-dog-dare-by-jennifer-johnson.html