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I don’t understand why people make such a big deal out of periods and the disposable items that absorb menstrual blood. During lunch outside 7-11 with my friends at work (and by “lunch” I mean chocolate, milk tea, and a crapload of cigarettes), I remembered that I had gotten my period a few hours back and I was due for a napkin change.

“Oh yeah, I need to buy napkins!” I announced, because I like to bother my friends with mundane things about myself, like the need to refresh my stash of sanitary pads. They usually ignore me every time I do that but today, I elicited a reaction! Paeng, who was sitting next to me, slapped his forehead with his palm and went, “Putang ina namaaan.” (”Your mother is a whore namaaaan.”)

We tight, yo

“Bakit, anong masama sa napkins? Meron ako ngayon eh!” was my indignant reply. (”What’s wrong with buying napkins? I have my period today!”)

“Ano ba, nagbebenta ako nyan dati!” (”Ano ba, I used to sell that shit before!”)

I stared at him dumbfounded before bursting into a manic fit of shits and giggles. Paeng sputtered and exclaimed, “Mahirap ang buhay dati!” (”Hey, life was tough back then!”) then clarified that he dealt feminine products in their family sari-sari store. Not that it erased the image I had of him in my head, walking in between cars during traffic much like a street vendor. Except instead of cigarettes and candy he was peddling sanitary pads.

(This reminded me about another unusual job a friend used to have. A certain Man Blog editor, whose identity I shall hide under the name Bim, once had a fitness club gig that involved teaching old ladies how to do self-defense. Except he wasn’t the the self-defense instructor. Nope. He got to be the sleaze who played the role of purse snatcher and granny rapist. I LOLed for such a long time that Bim gave up trying to tell the rest of the story and stomped out for a smoke. Then I punched him in the gut and he lay crumpled on the floor for a good five minutes. I’m an awesome friend like that.)

Paeng then told me about how putting napkins on display is a great way to earn even more money, if you own the neighborhood sari-sari store. A girl would go up to the sari-sari store with her eyes on the napkins sitting on the shelf. Upon seeing Paeng, a guy, they’d stop and pretend to be distracted by the other merchandise. “Uhh…pabili ng softdrinks. At saka junk food. At saka candy. At saka yosi.” (”Uhh…I’d like to buy a Coke. And some chips. And some candy. And some cigs.”) And then after a pause, she’d say sheepishly, “Pabilinarinngnapkin.” (”Icanhasbuyanapkinkthxbai.”) After making Paeng wrap the napkins in newspaper, she’d get shifty-eyed and walk away quickly, as though she just bought a whole block of high-grade hash instead of absorbent polypropylene.

Inspired by this story, I decided to have a little fun and chase Paeng back to the office while waving my 7-11-bought pack of Kotex over my head. He ran as fast as his gout-ridden legs could carry him, screaming the entire time. Well, not really. He just kind of walked straight ahead, but not before throwing me a look that said “Stay the fuck away from me, woman!”

One of the things I don’t get about women is why they ask poor sari-sari store vendors like Paeng to wrap their purchased sanitary napkins with newspaper. It most certainly can’t be done for hygienic purposes, as napkins come covered in their own protective layer of paper. Is it because they’re embarrassed that they’re on their periods? But why? Care to enlighten me? Being on the rag is not exactly something I’d brag about, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to hide it from the world either.

I would, however, tell everyone I know about it. Just because I can.