I am a fairly thrifty person, but I have always held that there are some things you just shouldn't skimp on, like shoes and baking ingredients. After this week, I am going to add tampons to that list.
I'm not sure exactly how it came up, but last month Kristy and I were drinking and talking tampons at a gathering at my house. Kristy held that the generic cardboard tampons were the way to go, as they were inexpensive and more environmentally friendly than their plastic applicator sisters.
I prefer plastic applicators and cited comfort as my main concern, and before long, the debate grew lengthy and heated. So heated that I distinctly remember at one point pounding on the table for emphasis as I shouted, "NOTHING IS TOO GOOD FOR MY VAGINA!" and so lengthy that about forty-five minutes after my outburst, Josh looked over at us in disbelief and yelled, "Jesus Christ, are you guys STILL fucking talking about tampons?!?"
As there was no end in sight and we weren't getting any more coherent, we decided to settle the issue with a tampon-off. The next month, Kristy would bite the bullet and shell out the extra two bucks for beautifully tapered plastic-applicator tampons, and I would overcome my fear of blunt-force trauma to the cervix and use the generic cardboard kind.
Well, that month has passed, and our final conclusions have been reached. You can read about Kristy's findings here. Mine are as follows:
Kristy recommended the Walgreens brand (or Wal-pons, as she calls them), but since HEB is closer to my house, I decided their house brand would do just as well. I got a box of 40 in assorted sizes for $4.49, about two dollars less than the box of 36 Playtex I usually buy. Cool. I don't remember what I spent the extra two dollars on, but I'm sure it was really great, whatever it was.
The first hint of trouble was that there was one tampon in the box that had been packaged incorrectly and was already open. Come to think of it, the paper wrappings seem extremely flimsy, considering what they're supposed to be protecting.
On the other hand, I was mesmerized by the Spanish translations on the box: "flujo muy abundante" means "very heavy flow," and so on. The box said there were more instructions inside, so I went to see if I could learn more about the menstrual cycle en Español. But they had left the instruction pamphlet out altogether. Shoddy packaging, no instructions. Just how cheap were these tampons? I was afraid I'd open them up to discover they were made from recycled dryer lint.
I forged ahead, and they were okay. I guess. I was surprised that the applicator was actually the least of my objections. They weren't nearly as comfortable, but they were tolerable. Really, that part wasn't bad at all; they're made of cardboard, after all, not rusty tacks and broken glass. The real problem with the off-brand tampons is that they aren't well designed.
The more expensive kind are layered for better absorption. See the one on the right? It looks like a pretty flower, like something Georgia O'Keefe might paint, whereas the cheaper ones are just a big featureless hunk of viscose and cotton.
The shape might seem like some bullshit marketing thing, but it actually does make a big difference. After a near disaster early in the week, I realized I couldn't trust them and I'd have to change them out a lot more frequently than my usual brand. That meant more trips to the bathroom, something I really resented during a particularly busy week at work. Even though I'd spent less money at the outset, I ended up using a lot more over the course of the week. Not enough to totally erode all the savings, but still.
As far as flushing goes, you know how sketchy our sewer line is,
so there was no way I was going to chance throwing even a cardboard
applicator down there. Although I was able to flush them at work, my
bathroom wastebasket filled up with paper wrappers, so I didn't feel
like there was a very clear advantage there either.
But I survived. The bottom line is that I think the extra two dollars each month is worth every penny. That comes to an extra $912 over my reproductive lifetime, without accounting for inflation, and I'm very much okay with that.
I'm not thrilled about discarding all that plastic, it's true, and if there is a tampon out there with a rounded cardboard applicator that is as effective as the kind I like, and it were still much cheaper, I would consider using it. But for now I am looking forward to next month, when I can just plug it up with my tried-and-true brand and hardly think about tampons at all.
(Oh, and so very many thanks to Kristy. Although she is misguided, I know of no one else who could make a tampon-off so fun and classy.)