Ok so let me preface this and say that it was the middle of finals week and I was hella stressed. I was also on my period. The trifecta of a shite week, if you will.
Being a 21 year old female that doesn’t enjoy bloody underwear, I obviously use tampons to soak up the inevitable crime scene that would have been my cute underwear. Up to this point, I haven’t had any issues with the use of tampons as a method of stopping my uterine lining from oozing out of my pants onto the bus seats. However, I had been seeing a lot of stuff about a resurgence in TSS cases and girls forgetting tampons in their bodies and whatnot. I feel like I should also disclose that I am a closeted hypochondriac, so I think I’m dying a lot but I don’t actually tell anyone about it until after when I’m sure that I’ll probably survive the event.
Not to give too much information of anything, but I’m really paranoid about losing tampons inside of me so I make sure that the string is visible every time I look. On this day, however, it was not.
I had just gotten out of the shower, put in a new feminine hygiene product, and proceeded to sit on my bed and watch instagram makeup videos for the next hour until I inevitably had to get ready at the last second. As the universe would have it, the last second rolled around, and I went to go put on underwear and the string was nowhere to be found. Nowhere.
Now the freaking out started to commence.
I sat there panicking for a good five minutes having an internal screaming match with myself about whether or not I had actually inserted said tampon. As you’ll come to find out, I had inserted said tampon upon exiting the shower and it was indeed lost inside my platinum vagine. As the internal screaming match came to a close, I realized that I should probably prepare my mother for the fact that I was most likely going to die from TSS.
“MOM? MOM? CAN YOU COME UPSTAIRS?!” I was practically shouting at this point; freaking out because I was fully convinced that I was actually going to die.
“She’s in the bathroom, do you need help with something?”My dad responded. Fighting through the over dramatic tears welling up in my eyes I managed to squeak out, “No. I really just need my mom to come up here.” I couldn’t very well tell my father that I lost a tampon up my hoo-ha, now could I? No one, except the 20+ year old females of today actually know how a vagina works so he probs would have thought I was slutting around or some dumb shit like that.
My mom finally made her slow way up the stairs and sauntered into my room like I was causing her some kind of inconvenience, “Are you okay? Your father said you were freaking out.” She was looking at me like I was crazy, and tbh I def looked it, too. Red faced, teary eyed, adrenaline pumping. In all honesty, it probably looked like I snorted some cocaine or something.
“It’s not funny so don’t laugh at me” *jumps up and down* “I’m just like-I just don’t”
-“Isabella so help me God if you don’t tell me-”
“I LOST A TAMPON IN MY VAGINA AND I CAN’T FIND IT.” I swear to the heavens above this woman never laughed harder in her life. My mother, in the midst of me thinking I was going to get Toxic Shock Syndrome, have a leg amputated, and fucking die, doubled over with laughter. Her response was kind of iconic:
“People shove fists up there, Isabella. There’s only so far it can go.”
That’s it? That’s all you’ve got for me mom? Dig around in your platinum vagine to try and find the dried up tampon that could possibly be giving me blood poisoning?
“Mother, I don’t think you’re really getting what I’m telling you.” She leaned in as I paused doing that sarcastic head movement urging me to finish the thought, “I lost a tampon up there and I can’t find it. I’m going to get blood poisoning and die!!!” I was basically levitating and shouting at her holding my towel around my body trying not to flash anyone.
“Either you can dig it out, or I can. Take your pick.”
Take your pick? That’s all my mother had to offer me? Dig it out???
And that’s what I did. I spent the next two hours of my life doing some questionable google searches only to find that all the ‘experts’ suggested that I go to the ER and have it SURGICALLY-FUCKING-REMOVED from my vaginal cavity to avoid dying. A good 30 minutes pass and I finally think I’ve found it. “YES!” Just as I was beginning to feel relief that I wasn’t about to die, MY BODY SUCKS THE TAMPON UP EVEN FURTHER. How is this even possible?!
Now it was war. Me against death. I was determined to win and not let this be the thing that my mother would make fun of me about until I genuinely died.
I had previously read on one of the websites that jumping up and down and wiggling might loosen the death weapon, but I had one better: a pull-up bar. I hooked the damn thing to the doorframe between the basement and garage and hung there like a limp noodle wiggling my lower half in the hopes of a dislodge, again, to no avail.
UGH. I was really going to die.
That’s it. I’ll just accept my fate. Plan my funeral. Text my friends my goodbyes. Time to die.
Somehow after all of this, I marched my ass back up into my bathroom, put on my big girl panties (not really, because it’s a lil hard to reach up your vagina whilst wearing underwear) and pull it out.
It was the most traumatic seven minutes of my life with wayyyyyy more of my own fingers up my vagina than ever necessary but….
I’M ALIVE I GOT IT OUT I’M NOT GOING TO DIE
Moral of the story is just get a diva cup, it can’t get lost.