There are no free maxi pads in America

Nor tampons seemingly at any cost. 

I spent a day and a half since I last blogged being mad at my sister for something she never said (totally me, nothing on her), went to work and ate 500 calories worth of Cadbury chocolate (the milk chocolate kind with nuts and fruit [these details are obviously important]), which I wouldn't have even had except that I had to run to the Walgreens for goddamn maxi pads because apparently the machines in my building are just pretend maxi pad machines that steal your dimes along with your hopes for a normal day. So then I had to go lay down in our office quiet room for a small nap, obviously. All of this being pretty clearly explained by my rather fragile hormonal state. 

But I ran four miles anyway, and this after bumming a tampon off some girl in the locker room because I am not responsible enough to either have some in my gym bag nor remember to bring any of the ones I just goddamn bought at Walgreens, which I am sure is to the surprise of exactly nobody. Also noting that my goddamn gym does not have a tampon machine in the ladies locker room at all, real or pretend, and what the serious fuck????

But apparently my faith that exercise will always and only make me feel better and never worse is unshakable. And also correct. 

So then I soaked in the hot tub with four or five old men. I wore my headphones but actually eavesdropped on their conversations about their various ailments, medical specialists and generally applaud each other for being old and it was kind of nice. One of them went on a nice rant about bike riders riding on the sidewalk and on the wrong side of the road which I especially appreciated, being that I also generally hate bike riders. 

Anyway, so I did what I feel is somewhat of a community service, in showing all the other women that the hot tub doesn't belong to the old men. I mean, maybe there aren't ever any women in there because they are rightfully disgusted at the likely cesspool of germs that is the gym hot tub, but maybe not, maybe they don't go in because the old men hog it and they don't feel welcome. 

Anyway, this time there was a really hot tattooed guy sitting on the bench next to my towel and despite my immediate request that he hand it over to me, he sadly did not offer to towel me off.