By Ali Siemens (Contributor) – Email
Print Edition: November 14, 2012
I don’t believe it is a surprise to any man or woman that women bleed approximately every 28 days. It’s something us women have learned to deal with, and it is often a celebratory moment in a young girl’s life. A period can mean many things, the start of womanhood, a signal that you aren’t pregnant or just that you’re going to feel bloated for the next few days and eat too much chocolate.
For half of my life, I have been bleeding for five days once a month, and it is something I have become used to. I can’t say I am happy about it, but at least I get to text my significant other and remind him that we don’t have to pay back my student loans and support a child.
The world and its services have actually dedicated small features that I have come to enjoy, like the zippered pocket inside my purse that dutifully holds my tampons and pads, or the “wallet” that really only holds pads and is decorated in flowers and hearts (to hide those embarrassing things of course). There are scented tampons, unscented, biodegradable, with an applicator, without, thick pads, light pads, winged pads, wipes, the Diva Cup and of course, the savior known as Midol. It really is quite amazing to think there is an entire industry dedicated to our bleeding lady bits. And really, I thank the period CEOs for their help.
Unfortunately, the UFV bathrooms aren’t so forgiving of that time of the month. Last year, the Student Union Society (SUS) put stickers in all of the female washrooms explaining that they have started providing free feminine hygiene products in C-building at the SUS office. How exciting! You mean to tell me, if that zippered pocket in my purse is empty, I can obtain period supplies for free? Oh happy day. It really was quite the treat to know I could walk in to the office and ask for something to help aid my vagina in its bloody woes when I forgot to stock up.
On one recent, ill-fated day it finally happened. I forgot my tampons at home. Then I remembered the sticker and headed to the SUS office to obtain the free supplies to hold me over for the day. Except, the receptionist informed me, they were all out. Damn. In a last-ditch effort, I began searching the halls for a bathroom with a tampon machine. Eventually I found one in building B. Inserting my quarter, I turn the knob and nothing comes out (not my quarter either).
SUS informs me that they heard a rumour that the gym possibly has a supply, so in a venture to obtain the almighty tampon and before I have an embarrassing spot on my jeans, I run over there.
No luck.
The university is tamponless.
Now this all happened a month ago, and I thought, I’ll give it till my next period before I let my mood swings get the better of me in hopes that the university will better support me and my menstruating cycle. A male friend offered to go into the SUS office for me, to enquire about the promised feminine hygiene products. Upon his return, he looked at me and said they are still out, “but they gave me these Multi Grain Cheerios for you.”
Multi Grain Cheerios are hardly the kind of absorbency I needed.
I bleed, okay? So do all the other non-pregnant and pre-menopausal women at this university. As great as it is to think the SUS actually wanted to provide something useful to the female students, I just want the ability to get a damn tampon when I need one. I don’t want any more free SUS merchandise – that includes a SUS lanyard, Cheerios or pens. I want tampons.
Editors Note: At time of print, the stickers directing women to SUS to find feminine hygiene products had been removed from washrooms.
