Big Macs & Tampons

So I've been called out (several times!) on missing a post last week. Forgive me. I was vacationing for the second time this summer at the beach. Don't be jealous...we only had like 2 full days out of 7 that were actually SUNNY. But a rainy day at the beach is better than any other day anywhere else.

You are probably intrigued by the title of today's post. And rightfully so. I'm sure your mind is grossing itself out, trying to somehow connect the two random items I've listed...and coming up with nothing short of something nauseating. Let me sidetrack you for a moment. This post is about firsts. Firsts are cemented into our brains, whether they are horrifying or slightly insignificant or off-the-radar, tingly moments in time that will make you remember everything about them in ridiculous detail.

First concert. (Michael Bolton, baby)

First celebrity crush. (Jonathan Taylor Thomas, card-carrying fan club member!)

First kiss. (who I will not name because I'm positive he's a closet Kristin Connection fan)

First car. (1999 white Mercury Cougar)

First TIME. (night AFTER junior prom. Didn't want to be totally cliché)

First job. (Victoria Public Library, summer assistant)

First alcoholic beverage. (Brandy, straight...summer of 6th grade from a Disney
                                                                                             Pocahontas glass)
FIRST grade teacher. (Sally McLaughlin)

First time your spouse said the 3 little words. (During an argument while the FIRST  
                                      Pirates of the Caribbean movie played in the background)

These are just a smidgen of the list of firsts that I so vividly remember from years ago. While most of them are slightly insignificant, (basically all except for the '3 little words' first and the Michael Bolton concert), there are 2 things missing from my list that I just recently experienced within the last two weeks. Ladies and gentlemen, I am twenty seven years old and within the last 14 days, I JUST ate my first Big Mac from McDonald's and *successfully* wore my first tampon. (Although not simultaneously). If you weren't connected to me before, then get ready to be...

The week before vacation in my house basically means we save every penny and eat dust in preparation for all the money we know we're going to spend while away. This particular week, I was in full PMS mode. After eating boiled hotdogs and macaroni and cheese for the third night in a row, Mike & I decided we'd just get fast food. This is the point in the story where you're probably judging me and my continuous battle with weight-loss by the garbage I tossed into my body the last two weeks. Judge away; the first step is admitting the problem and I long ago admitted I have an intimate relationship with the word 'chunky'.

Because we not only gamble with our cholesterol levels at McDonalds, we like to play Monopoly when it comes around. We were both looking up playing items on the menu and I said out loud, "The only sandwich I see with game pieces is the Big Mac. I've never had one before." **Cue crickets**

Since Mike thought I was the only person on the planet NOT to have eaten a Big Mac before, we decided to spend the few extra dollars and pop my Big Mac cherry. Here is my conclusion:

1. Sit at a table when eating a Big Mac.
2. Before you take it out of the box, smush it down with the palm of your hand so you're able to bite into it at one time.
3. After about the third bite, you will realize that everything and it's mama is coming out the back bun furthest away from your face. You're going to have to reconstruct.
4. If you aren't used to a hamburger that size, you probably won't finish it. However, if you do finish it, don't look at the nutritional information.
5. If you're a nosey ass like me, look up the nutritional information. It's a 550 calorie cheeseburger with 29 grams of fat and like 90000000000 mg's of sodium.
6. Call yourself a fatty when you finish the burger, but go ahead and finish the fries that came with it. Wouldn't want to waste anything.

And now for what you've really been waiting for. It's no secret in my family that I had never used a tampon before and I'm a all-pad, all-the-way, kinda girl. I've spent every summer since I can remember at our pool and using the earache excuse gets old after about the third month. Rewind to last week...our beach vacation and the arrival of Aunt Flo on the second day. Because not all the women in my family are total babies like myself, one of them had quite the stash of supplies, aka tampons in every shape, size, and color (or 'flavors' as one of the boys said when he saw the clear bag with all the assorted treats inside).

It's not that I've never tried using a tampon before. I think I was 13 and I remember, CLEARLY, being in the bathroom with my leg propped up on the toilet and hollering to my mama on the other side of the door, "I DON'T KNOW WHICH HOLE TO PUT IT IN!" Hence, the first and last time I ever tried. Also, my middle school health/gym teacher told us the story about some girl having to have emergency surgery because she went like 7 days without changing it and it got stuck and ewwwwwwwwwwwwww I can't even finish the story. That's basically the psychological reasoning behind my decision to stick strictly to pads.

Because I didn't want to punish myself the entire week by not being able to swim in our pool nor the ocean, I got a tampon from the stash and announced that I was heading into the bathroom with it. Of course, because my family is awesome (or insane), they followed me.

I'm sitting in the bathroom and I unwrap the lime green paper. I'm thinking it could easily pass as Laffy Taffy. After several unsuccessful attempts, I hear a whisper through the door. "Is everything going okay?" "NO!" I replied. Every time I shove it up into the great beyond, it's painful. So that's what I tell them. My cousin says to hold on. My aunt starts giving me words of encouragement. "You can do it!" she says. "I'm so proud of you!" I hear.

I yank it back down and I hear my cousin back at the door. She's going to give me the step-by-step. Unwrap. Check. Shove til it stops. Check. Push the plastic til it pops out. WHAT? Christ on a cracker. I had no idea just the cotton part stayed there. I thought the whole plastic thing stayed there. BAM. We're done. No wonder I had so many issues. They should really teach this process to girls in school. I'm almost 30 and didn't know how to work one.

After yells of excitement and a round of applause from outside the door, I do a hundred string-siting checks and head to the pool. Slowly.

As  I awkwardly enter the pool area, another cousin (this one a boy) yells, "She's a WOMAN now!" I ease myself into the shallow part and all I can picture in my head is a clear pitcher of water with a packet of red Kool-Aid being dumped into it. Please God, let this thing stay in.  I stay in the pool for about 30 minutes until I psych myself out and retreat to my lounge chair. The rest of the week gets easier and easier though.

Here is my conclusion:
1. Do not leave the plastic part of a tampon inside of you. It's a cool rocket toy, if you think about it. This way, you can countdown from 10 if it's awkward for you while inserting.
2. Never divulge private information to your family members. No good can come from it.
3. Wear what is comfortable to you. Don't let a tampon be your stick in the mud.
4. If wearing a tampon, it's best not to sneeze. Ever.

Again, 'd like to end this with just a small statement. Ladies and gentlemen, I am twenty seven years old and within the last 14 days, I've eaten a Big Mac and I've become a woman. Although, perhaps I should rightly rename this post with my preferences from now on, "Nuggets and Maxi Pads".