Tag Archives: feminine hygiene products

Suck it, Sanipod!

Public bathrooms have really upped their technology game.

Toilets flush themselves, water magically appears when you place your palms in the communal sinks, hand dryers have become so powerful that you can literally watch your skin get sucked dry in a matter of seconds.

What a time to be alive!

Most of these newfangled public bathroom upgrades are pretty self explanatory and have been implemented to make doing your business away from the privacy of your own home a less disgusting experience.

Last week, I was with my family at a museum out of town when my daughter and I needed a bathroom break. We found a seemingly standard public restroom and used stalls next to each other. Lucky for me, it was my time of the month and I needed a fresh sanitary napkin. Just as I was about to swap my old pad for a new one, I noticed there was nowhere to dispose of my “waste”.

No tiny silver box drilled into the stall wall! What was a girl to do?

It was then that I noticed a white plastic tube fastened to the wall beside the toilet. It looked exactly like the picture below.


I don’t know why, but when I first entered the stall, I thought that it was an overly large air freshener and didn’t really pay it any attention. Upon further scrutiny, I discovered that this tube was in fact a space aged, feminine hygiene disposal unit. The word “Sanipod” was written across the front of it in cursive writing.


I wrapped my used pad in toilet paper and was excited to use the Sanipod for the very first time, but then I got totally confused. How the hell was I supposed to get my feminine “waste” inside the tube? There was no obvious opening, no little trap door or tiny garbage shoot. There were no directions visible on the Sanipod. What was I missing? I knocked on it a little and then my daughter started to ask me what I was doing. Wanting to avoid a conversation about maxi pad disposal with my five year old in a public bathroom, I panicked and put the used pad in my sweatshirt pocket. Feeling like a moron, I washed my hands and then stealthily tossed my pocket pad in the garbage on our way out of the bathroom. For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t get the stupid Sanipod out of my head. Why couldn’t I figure out how to use it? What was wrong with me? This was a product designed for menstruating women. I WAS A MENSTRUATING WOMAN, DAMMIT.

Our day at the museum was coming to a close and I knew that I couldn’t leave without solving the riddle of the Sanipod. I informed my children that they all needed to use the bathroom before leaving. My daughter and I entered the very same bathroom and used the very same stalls.

There it was again. That smug little Sanipod. Hanging on the wall like it was better than everyone else.

I channelled my inner Crime Scene Investigator as I scrutinized the Sanipod. What was I missing?

Suddenly, I noticed a small black circle on the very tip of the Sanipod. I touched it and nothing happened. Frustrated and about to give up, I held my right hand just above the black circle thinking that maybe it would somehow sense my presence like the faucet in the communal sinks. Like magic, the top of the Sanipod popped up exposing a small compartment for my personal feminine “waste”. I hurried to change my pad and giddily placed it in the Sanipod. With a cool swishing sound, the top of the Sanipod collapsed back down on the tube as I faintly heard the dull sound of my pad hitting the bottom of the inside of the tube.




Researching the Sanipod for this post, I discovered that it comes in both black and white and a variety of sizes.They are available for both personal and commercial use. You can also get decorative wraps for your Sanipod if you desire to make your feminine “waste” tube more cohesive with your bathroom decor. In my opinion, the best feature of the Sanipod is its unique shape. Does it remind you of anything?

Anything at all?

sanipod 2

Thanks for reading and I wish you all positive Sanipod experiences!

Your friend,



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Bleeding and Cleaning


My five year old son had his tonsils and adenoids removed two weeks ago today.

It’s been a long two weeks of morphine and snot and naps and meltdowns and cabin fever and sleepless nights and cuddles.

To help my son heal from his surgery, he’s been prescribed a heavy dose of TV time. I swear the TV hasn’t been off in over fourteen days. That kid will watch anything and everything. Baby shows, pony shows, cooking shows, he doesn’t discriminate. Like most kids, he loves watching the channels that solely air kids programming. I’ve gotten remarkably good at tuning out the annoyingly repetitive and shrill sounds of the cartoons that he gravitates towards. But yesterday, something on one of his “kids only” channels totally grabbed my attention.

My kids were huddled in front of the TV, zoned out like zombies. I was sitting at the kitchen table, ¬†huddled in front of my computer, also zoned out like a zombie. I don’t even remember what I was looking at, but it probably had to do with cats.

A few moments later, a commercial for feminine hygiene products and the sound of my eight year old son’s super high voice jolted me from my computer coma.

“Mom, Mom, MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! There’s a commercial for your diapers on TV!”

“Cool”, I replied, totally confused. Why was there a maxi pad commercial airing at four o’clock in the afternoon on a TV channel that catered strictly to children?

I pondered this and then noticed that the following commercial was for laundry detergent.

How odd.

Why not commercials for toys or video games or super delicious sugary cereals?

I pondered some more.

And then everything became clear.

The advertising executives for this particular TV station probably got together for an epic brain storming session over coffee and danishes. They knew they needed to increase viewership, but how?

I bet a very smart man in a very smart suit came up with the very smart idea to expand their advertising to include all the bleeders out there. You know, the moms, sisters, babysitters and aunts of small children who have no choice but to watch crappy kids cartoons when in the presence of their youngins.

I would personally like to thank Mr. Smart Suit for interrupting my precious computer zombie time to remind me of my menstrual needs. I’ve only been a “woman” since I was twelve, so I pretty much have no idea how this whole period thing works.

I also think that it’s awesome and not sexist or a massive generalization at all that Mr. Smart Suit thinks that all the bleeders out there LOVE doing laundry. Oh boy, do we LOVE it! Us bleeders get positively jazzed about new laundry detergent.

It’s all we can think about!

It’s all we can talk about!

It’s our raison d’etre!

How brilliant of Mr. Smart Suit to put both our love of bleeding and washing together in the same sixty second frame.


You know what would be amazing? If I sent my eight year old son to one of those advertising executive meetings and Mr. Smart Suit could answer his questions about why his mother needs special diapers. Mr. Smart Suit just gets me and my needs as a woman and could probably explain menstruation to my son in a way that won’t leave him confused or horrified.

Mr. Smart Suit is so in tune with his feminine side that there is no doubt in my mind that he fully understands everything there is to know about being a woman.

He so gets women, I bet he even menstruates…or dare I say MANstruate?

I wonder what other delightful commercial combinations Mr. Smart Suit and his amazing female intuition will come up with next?

Tampons and toilet cleaner?

Douches and dish soap?

Weight loss and washing machines?

I can’t wait!

As a woman and a bleeder, I feel it’s my duty to thank you again, Mr. Smart Suit.

Thank you for reminding me of my womanly duties.

Thank you for inundating me with your spot on  ideals of womanhood.

Most importantly, thank you for reminding me how much I love to bleed and clean.


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