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Leer la versión en español de los siguientes temas: Anticoncepción y religión, Breve reseña - Olor - Religión y menstruación - Seguridad de productos para la menstruación.

Comic strip: A conservative American family visits the (future) Museum of Menstruation

DIRECTORY of all topics (See also the SEARCH ENGINE, bottom of page.)
CONTRIBUTE to Humor, Words and expressions about menstruation and Would you stop menstruating if you could?
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Leer la versión en español de los siguientes temas: Anticoncepción y religión, Breve reseña - Olor - Religión y menstruación - Seguridad de productos para la menstruación.

The conclusion of "Issues of Blood," the third of three contributions is at top, right below, over the second contribution.

Mr. Finley,

After reading the many delightful anecdotes and informative articles in the MUM, I got inspired to contribute a bit of humor of my own.

Hope you enjoy.

A Treatise on Gynecological Hygiene ~ Part II

By Mr. P. Farthingale Bloom & Associates

When we left "Issues of Blood ~ the Odor" [scroll down], a majestic lion was bearing down on the big game hunter who haplessly stumbled and dropped his rifle just as he was about to draw a bead on the animal. The strong odor that afflicts some women experiencing menstrual disorders was addressed unsparingly. A parallel was inferred, comparing the excitement caused by witnessing extreme physical danger such as that depicted in the minister's slides with the intense stimulation derived from gratifying work.

Matters were left unresolved.

What Happened to the Big Game Hunter

The big game hunter was lucky. Fortunately, he was not the primary object of the charging lion, but unfortunately, he happened to be directly in its path. Some fifty yards beyond the hunter was a tawny lioness, obviously in heat, judging from the attention she was receiving from a number of younger lions, all of whom were battling to establish supremacy and all of whom were being rebuffed by her.

Just as the hunter recovered from his fall but before he could reach for his gun the lion gave him a good clout, raking its claws across his back. His upper garments were ripped from his body revealing deep claw marks. Leaving the hunter prostrate, the lion swiftly routed his inferior rivals, after which he directed his attention to the lioness. "He's thumping his slats against her bum", was how one of the young slide-viewers described the ensuing activity. "Why is the lion making faces?" a little girl asked, "and he's biting her neck".

The hunter was unconscious when his guides returned. After swaddling his wounds with remnants of his torn clothing they transported him by jeep over a long tortuous route to a remote missionary outpost where he received treatment from its nursing staff. While his wounds per se were not life threatening, a serious infection had set in by the time they got him there, exacerbated by swarms of insects and sweltering heat.

He regained his strength but only after a long harrowing bout with fever and delirium, during which time the missionaries doted on him constantly. So grateful was the hunter to the mission that upon his recovery he became a generous lifetime donor to its cause. His guides also were handsomely remunerated.

Philanthropy and good deeds came to suit him well. It helped that he was a man of substantial means. And not only did he retire from big game hunting but he contributed a very substantial sum to the establishment of a large game preserve in Kenya that included the site where he was cuffed by the lion. He reveled in the adulation showered upon him by all the beneficiaries of his munificence.

"The Lord moves in mysterious ways", the minister concluded.

What All Men Should Know

A reputable scholar will always buttress his research with facts. No stone should be allowed to remain unturned in his quest for truth.

"How many men have taken a good close look at women's sanitary paraphernalia," I asked myself as I entered one of the better-known pharmacies, there to check out the product line in the area of feminine hygiene. "What better way to augment my research," I reasoned, "than by subjecting the goods themselves to rigorous examination."

Despite my resolve to do an important work I felt very much out of place as I timidly approached the aisle where these products were located. I surreptitiously viewed the shelves upon which were arrayed a wide assortment of hygienic items while trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and at the same time, avoid the curious glances of women making their selections of Kotex, Maxi Pads or any other of the standard brand name products. I hovered about for some time, and when I thought no one was looking, I examined labels for contents, holding the boxes up in good light. I observed two basic product types: pads applied externally and the tampon. "What a strange man," I overheard one of the women, a hefty and rather pugnacious-looking sort, say openly to her shopping companion. "Looks like it's too tough for him to handle" she added as I held up one of the boxes.

After dallying about some more, I finally managed sufficient pluck to make a selection of both pads and tampons. But who should suddenly get in line directly behind me at the checkout counter but the same two women who'd sported at my expense at the shelves. I had a strong impression they'd been lurking about until a propitious moment arose to cause further mischief. "Can you imagine that?" I heard the same one say, "His wife sends him out to do his daughter's shopping," getting in a dig about Mr. Bloom's age and his apparent docility. "Or maybe his granddaughter's," she added, after which she snorted derisively.

I'd put up with enough. I turned about to address this bellicose cow who was now smirking triumphantly. "Ma'am," I said in a clear steady voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire store, "I see you've got a box of Maxi's. I can't envision a delightful creature like you needing XTRA-Large. Then again large body parts must go hand in hand with a large mouth. Have a pleasant day Ma'am."

She stood frozen in her tracks with maw agape while her companion started to laugh in a most undignified fashion. Even the checkout girl did not remain immune from these proceedings, and after trying her best to suppress mirth, she began to emit snuffling, high-pitched noises that sounded like a piglet suckling at its mother's font. Convinced that I'd inflicted a profound humiliation on that chump of womanhood, I scurried out the store with my tampons before she could rebound to make more trouble.

I then realized the time was not yet ripe for disclosing to all womankind the purpose of my mission.

The Merchandise

Ensconced within the solitary confines of my office I proceeded to examine the merchandise (zone for product application presented in Exhibit A). Pads are offered in a wide range of sizes ranging from the petite worn by pubescent females to the XTRA-Large used by more matronly women. (Taken separately, the pads are vastly inferior to tampons as agents for containing menstrual flow as we shall see; In Mr. Bloom's opinion a pad worn in conjunction with a tampon is a redundancy, although such an arrangement certainly remains an option).

A sticky back surface adheres to the bloomers to keep the pad in place, while on the working side of the piece, a wide swath of absorbent material acts to shield the vaginal orifice and capture any discharge issuing therefrom. While amply overlapping the vulva, the covering is rather loose and a desired leak-proof arrangement (Exhibit B) is not always guaranteed since it is impossible for its wearer to remain still all day long: any subsequent shuffling about may disturb the pad aside the genitals leaving unprotected outer garments exposed to wet, slimy menstrual discharge, thereby causing not only soilage, but for those experiencing aromatic menstruation, an embarrassing stink. To a lesser extent, complications may arise from matted hair fouling the piece. Everyone I'm sure at one time or another has contended with a band-aid strip to which hair is stuckgenerally the pain is endured in one stinging shock by peeling it back all at once.

The tampons examined by Mr. Bloom are contained within ingenious telescoping applicators configured from two concentric cylinders made of cardboard. Variations on this design may exist as indicated in Exhibit C, where synthetic cartridges are utilized instead of cardboard. In its initial state the complex is four and three-quarters inches long, approximately one-half inch in diameter, and is smoothly finished on its exterior surface permitting painless insertion into the vagina at a depth compatible with one's anatomy. The tampon per se is contained in the larger cylinder. After this member is inserted, the smaller cylinder acts as a plunger thrusting it out through a slotted nose at the head, and once lodged in place, the tampon resides comfortably therein. Both cylinders are then discarded as further adjustment may be accomplished digitally. The entire insertion procedure is graphically illustrated in Exhibit D.

Other novel features did not escape my discerning eye. This particular product was advertised as being able to "expand in all directions, conforming to one's individual shape to provide unsurpassed protection. Length expansion has been limited to ensure comfort." The length of the tampon is initially two inches and is one-half inch in diameter with a string or withdrawal cord protruding from one end. This string is sewn the full length of the tampon into a matrix of absorbent cotton and rayon ensuring peace of mind for its user, making sure that nothing gets left behind.

The tampon's most salient feature in its first-line defense against odor must not escape mention. Once menstrual flow is initiated, a hermetic seal is formed between the tampon and the walls of the vagina, preventing any escape of malodorous vapors. Mr. Bloom saw but one problem: Once wetted, the tampon becomes very slippery. A debt of gratitude is owed his associates for informing him that a snug fitting harness keeps it from popping out. See Exhibit E.

Bumps along the Road

Enough cannot be said of my associates whose invaluable contributions made this treatise possible. Praise cannot be heaped high enough upon these illustrious men of the Keweenawland. Without their tireless unstinting support this dissertation would not be extant. Very much of the credit for its existence belongs to them. Mr. Bloom could not be prouder of his team.

There were some minor bumps along the road.

The frail individual who complained of his wife's odor was busy at work when his wife barged into the room. Neatly arrayed on a table before him was an assortment of tampons and Maxi Pads. Deep in contemplation, he barely took notice of her entrance as he held up an unsheathed tampon by the withdrawal string while musing intently upon the constituent fabric. "Hmmm", he said, "Hmmm".

He was jolted out of his reverie. She bellowed, "Just what in the world do you think you're doing".

"I'm involved in an important project", he meekly replied.

Seldom at a loss for a suitable reply, she was for once bereft of words. She shook her head as she turned about to leave the room, muttering "What am I missing, what am I missing".

The team member who suffered beneath the spouse-drawn sheets experienced distractions of a different nature. While tolerating the research he was performing with tampons, pads and retaining harnesses, his wife began to play tricks on him, true to her mischievous nature.

One morning he opened the top drawer of his desk, and instead of finding customary memoranda and bills, found a Kotex. It was used. Alongside it was a note:

Sweetie Pie,

You're desk is a handy spot for making a quick drop. Thought you might use this for your research. I'll make things up to you later when the curse is over.

Your loving wife,


After discovering the "discharge" was actually ketchup, mustard and a few splotches of Worcestershire Sauce, he experienced mixed feelings. He mostly felt relief.

Even the formidable lumberjack from Misery Bay found himself caught up in some light-hearted banter. Tall, spare and leathery faced, he was one of the most committed members on Mr. Bloom's team. Upon entering the same pharmacy where Mr. Bloom had made his purchases, he went directly to the checkout counter. "I need some tampons" he said loudly to the check-out girl, who by now had come to expect strange requests from men.

"What's an old buzzard like you going to do with tampons?" one of his chums asked.

"I've got to do what Old Fart Bloom says", he replied through likewise leathery lips.

"You mean Fart Blossom", someone said.

It was the stout lady who'd poked a few gibes at Mr. Bloom when he skulked about the shelves. Boisterous laughter erupted.

Concluding Remarks

No longer will the lowly tampon remain unheralded. Its many fine qualities that for too long have been taken for granted are now extolled. Of all the implements found in woman's cabinet of hygienic paraphernalia, the tampon may be recognized as being the most effective of the entire lot. Gynecological well-being is assured.

Woman today in the western world is free. Gone are the restrictive injunctions of antiquity and the humiliating separations imposed upon her during periods of uncleanness. Gone are the dubious and potentially harmful hygienic practices of the nineteenth century. What woman today would bleed directly into her underwear during menstruation for six straight days, thereby risking a serious infection? What woman today would go without underpants during her period, and however unwittingly, tempt unsavory men or mischievous young boys into peeking up her skirt? Modern day hygienic preparation hinders this disgusting behavior.

The pedestal of the nineteenth century has been replaced by the floor upon which woman treads today with confidence and poise. She is found today in practically all areas of endeavor: academia, the affairs of running the nation, the business world, and in the realms of science and engineering. Taking a back seat to no one, she enjoys true equality with her male counterpart, thanks in no small part to vastly improved means of gynecological hygiene.

Mr. Bloom and his associates remain deeply indebted to the Museum of Menstruation and its staff for granting us a forum in which to express our views. No doubt there still is much to be learned.

A special note of appreciation is extended to MUM's able curator, Mr. Harry Finley.

The End

Issues of Blood ~ the Odor

A Treatise on Gynecological Hygiene ~ Part I

By Mr. P. Farthingale Bloom & Associates

Critics and Proselytes

Since "Issues of Blood" appeared in the Museum of Menstruation, I have been inundated with praise and criticism from both friends and detractors alike. The praise has been lavish, bordering on the fulsome, and practically all of the criticism has been constructive. (Sadly, there've been a few sanctimonious prigs who've claimed to be offended by my article, but happily, they're in the minority.) In some instances erstwhile critics have even become friends, and furthermore, have become proselytized to assist in advancing a worthy cause.

In that article, in which I rather timidly broached a topic of significant import, I'd made claim that modern day hygienic appurtenances played a vital role in womankind's historical struggle to achieve equality with man, without providing much detail regarding the appurtenances themselves.

I made brief allusion to the tampon. The tampon is undoubtedly the single-most effective agent of all the devices used by women when menstruating. I have been repeatedly asked by those in my coterie of friends to expatiate in depth upon the attributes of the tampon that afford such peerless protection against menstrual discharge and bad odors.

Interestingly enough, the odor that afflicts some women during menstruation became a source of fascination to many. Coming from people, who insofar as I know do not in any way entertain morbid proclivities, I found this rather surprising. I was hence asked to address the nature of this odor as well.

I made no promises to anyone.

Heeding the Call to Duty

How can the tampon in any way be responsible for the meteoric rise of woman? What has this got to do with her firmly entrenched position in society today? How can considerations of the tampon in any context be reconciled with woman's fierce determination to chart to her own future without having to endure the stultifying constraints that'd been imposed upon her throughout the centuries by man? A classic apples versus oranges dichotomy is thus posed.

It was with discomforting ambivalence that I proceeded to tackle this paradoxical matter. I wallowed in a deep mire infested with inhospitable demons of self-doubt and ignorance, against whom I struggled long and hard. "Who's going to listen to you," they said, "Real men don't talk about such things." Even those closest tried to discourage me from undertaking this endeavor. "People will laugh at you," they said.

Integrity of purpose prevailed. I emerged from the mire victorious imbued with a firm resolve to reveal to the world an astonishing truth, viz., psychological well-being is inextricably woven with salubrious sanitary habits. Proclaiming that truth has become my mission.

It was not long before I was able to win converts over to my position, mostly in the Keweenawland of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, the land of Mr. Bloom's nativity. Men who'd previously disdained a profound truth as rubbish stepped forth and became members of a hard-working team to champion a worthy cause. Had it not been for their generous support, enduring patience, and most of all, their priceless first-hand experience, this undertaking would have failed dismally at its inception. The team was proctored by myself, Mr. Bloom. Much to their credit my associates have modestly chosen to remain anonymous.

Menstruation, occurring routinely on a monthly basis, is for the most part uneventful, but if attended by a uterine or vaginal infection, e.g., a massive yeast infection, considerable discomfort can occur that is often manifested by an extremely pungent odor. It is these demanding situations that must be addressed, and for these situations, the role played by the tampon becomes one of paramount significance.

Our team with exhaustive diligence has researched odor-producing menstruation that we simply refer to as "aromatic menstruation". We eschew precise medical terms in deference for terms the layman can readily apprehend, a view which may be appreciated all the more since the team itself is comprised of farmers, fishermen and lumberjacks who speak only plain language. Mr. Bloom hastens to add that neither he nor his team members wish to offend the refined sensibilities of anyone in addressing such a highly personal matter.

Our sole duty is to edify to a benighted public. Moreover we offer solicitous understanding toward all such afflicted women and to their long-suffering husbands as well.

Rutabagas Gone Bad

Have you ever been distressed by a disagreeable odor emanating from a fellow human being? Have you ever endured the stench of decayed rutabagas? My associates have collaborated extensively with farmers who maintain that of all the odors enriching the barnyard, none, including the more familiar substances one takes steps to avoid, exceeds the firmament clogging rottenness of decayed rutabagas, a root crop noted for an earthy pungency even when freshly cut. This ca me as revelation to Mr. Bloom, confirmed by a visit along with his esteemed colleagues to a farm in Trap Rock.

The farmer grabbed a two-by-four, and after selecting a rutabaga he deemed as having gone bad, pulverized the vegetable with one hefty swat. It was indeed revealed that instead of a fragrant, fresh and highly-prized pulp, the entire core had rotted into a viscid, nauseating mass imbued of an indescribable putridity. All the team members recoiled from the overpowering rot, inured though they were to stink.

They swiftly recovered. Toss in a couple of fish that have basked in the creel too long, these enlightened men informed me, and one captures the essence of aromatic menstrual discharge: unchecked, unwashed, and permitted to fully mature into an aggregate of a most unwholesome putrescence. (This odor is not in any way to be confused with the pleasing musk blooming forth from the genitalia during the better part of the month when "the curse" is removed.)

The yardstick for making this comparison involved close-quartered encounters in bedrooms. "Can't you do something about that odor?" one frail individual begged his wife. "Shut up and go to sleep," she told him. A matronly sort, possessed of an earthy sense of humor, pulled the sheets above her husband's head when he likewise complained. Other team members described similar horrors. One member, a lumberjack from Misery Bay, rebuked his colleagues. "That's the way it's supposed to smell," he said. While Mr. Bloom personally has not been subjected to the infernal stench that'd so profoundly afflicted his friends, he has no good reason whatsoever to gainsay the veracity of their claims.

Horrors! What can be done to subdue such a dreadful odor? Is it even at all possible to defeat such an overwhelming stink?

Enter the tampon, a simple device. While simplicity is the heart and soul of good functionality, the tampon possesses many sterling qualities, qualities that in no small measure contribute to its user's peace of mind. But before these qualities are elaborated upon, a brief digression is necessary. The reason for this will be made clear.

The Big Game Hunter and the Lion

When Mr. Bloom was but a wee tad of a fellow, he attended slide displays at a local church every Friday evening. The minister's purpose was to keep kids out of mischief.

For kids short on money, the slides were a decent substitute for a movie. Put a slide into the projector, view the still shot on the screen and in absence of a sound track, listen to the good minister augment what was happening in a clear, sonorous voice, no differently from how a lecturer today addresses his slides during a power point presentation. The session opened with a prayer followed by some hymn singing and a few Bible verses.

One sequence of slides depicted a big game hunter on an African safari. The walls of his large trophy room were already replete with heads of buffalo, gazelle, cheetahs, leopards and various other animals. Even a massive rhino head glared menacingly down from a huge frame, mounted high on a wall. Magnificent elephant tusks adorned the room. But he had yet to bag the king of beasts, the lion.

There on the veldt was the intrepid hunter: old, grayish in appearance with a smallish wizened face peering out from under a pith helmet. His skinny legs protruded down from his over-sized knee pants, resembling stakes used for propping up tomato plants in the garden. Whatever good will he harbored in his bosom did not show in his face, which was cross looking and petulant. One could easily imagine him barking out orders to his subordinates in a harsh raspy voice. He was accompanied by two guides. It was rumored that a magnificent, fully-maned lion prowled the savanna, weighing well over 500 pounds.

Sure enough, the beast appeared after making its way through some tall grass that was noticeably disturbed as it progressed in the general direction of the hunter. A clear shot was afforded, but in his excitement, the hunter stumbled and dropped his rifle. The guides fled in terror. What would happen? Would the hunter recover in time to pick up his gun and draw a bead on the now-charging lion?

At this juncture, the minister stopped. "The Lord teaches us to be patient. Come back next week and find out what happens," he told his enrapt audience of youngsters. He closed the session with another prayer.

And so it is with the tampon. Let us permit the excitement to mount. Mr. Bloom has already used up enough time and space for one study and trusts that the MUM will permit him another installment to conclude his rather lengthy dissertation. Just as the minister implored little Farthingale and his friends for their patience, Mr. Bloom kindly asks all of you now for yours. We will also find out what happened to the big game hunter.

(to be concluded)

Issues of blood

By Mr. P. Farthingale Bloom

Women's History Month is always celebrated in March.

In her millennia-long struggle to achieve equality with man, much has conduced to escalate woman's manumission from servitude and drudgery, especially during the past century. Specifics worthy of mention include woman suffrage, equality in the work place and a greater voice heard across the broad spectrum of human affairs. Accomplished today in all fields of endeavor, she comports herself with dignity and poise, and goes about her way exhibiting neither aloofness nor condescension toward others. There is truly much to celebrate.

But a most important factor leading to woman's emancipation has been egregiously understated by historians.

That factor is vastly improved methods of feminine hygiene.

My numerous detractors, mostly women, have quibbled peevishly with me, insisting that the issue I'm about to lay bare should best be resolved privately in a bathroom. Others have made jokes at Mr. Bloom's expense. A scholar's foremost duty, however, is the enlightenment of his patrons.

Foremost in the docket of woman's hygienic concerns is menstruation. Modern-day hygienic appurtenances, especially the tampon, and salubrious practices have contributed in spades toward her sense of well-being during menstruation. While routinely uneventful, problems may arise during her period that are sometimes manifested in an extremely disagreeable odor, as attested to by more than one victim of this most distressing affliction. It is against malodorous vapors that the tampon provides defense nonpareil, ensuring peace of mind for these unfortunate women...women who deserve our complete empathy.


Troves of pure gold were discovered, substantiating my claim.

Please refer to the King James Version of the Holy Bible, Chapter 15 of Leviticus, verses 16-33. Here we see that numerous encumbering restrictions were placed upon the Israelite woman during her monthly infirmity, e.g., "And if a woman have an issue, and her issue in her flesh be blood, she shall be put apart seven days: and whosoever toucheth her shall be unclean until the even", v19. There were numerous penances to be observed should offending parties in any way come in contact with objects she may have tainted such as a bed, as a perusal of this chapter reveals. "And whosoever toucheth those things shall be unclean, and shall wash his clothes, and bathe himself in water, and be unclean until the even", v27.

These strict hygienic laws were written by Moses about 1500 BC and handed down to the ancient Israelites as they tramped about for forty years in the arid Sinai wilderness in quest of the Promised Land. The plight of the Israelite women is not difficult to imagine given the severe conditions to which they were subjected and the relatively primitive methods of hygiene available to them. Mr. Bloom professes unreserved admiration for the grand matriarchs of the wilderness trekTirzah, Miriam and Hoglah just to name a fewnot only for their virtue but for acquitting so well the everyday demands placed upon them. Given the harsh arid desert climes, laundering tasks for instance and necessary ablutions were rendered extremely difficult.

Most likely a yard or two of linen was used to absorb the menstrual discharge. Everywhere a woman sat, everything she touched caused an uncleanness that became an abomination unto the Lord. The good rabbi in his wisdom thus had no choice other than to separate all the women through no fault of their own during periods of "uncleanness".


Excellent modern day source material found in the Museum of Menstruation (MUM), e.g., "What European and American Women in the Past Wore when Menstruating" provided Mr. Bloom with a wealth of anecdotal and factual information, which reinforced his view that salubrious hygienic habits and psychological well-being go hand in hand. He found MUM to be an illuminating beacon shedding strong light upon a substantive matter, a matter that for no good reason has been hidden much too long from the public eye. "We're not supposed to talk about these things," is all too often heard from prudish types.

Mr. Bloom expresses deep gratitude to the Museum and all its contributors for the invaluable insights obtained from his studies therein. It is his opinion the time is ripe for disseminating this fascinating knowledge and fabulous lore to a benighted public. It is his hope his brief dissertation, augmenting the fine work already accomplished at MUM, will contribute in no small measure toward that aim.

I was shocked to learn that clear up to 1900, hygienic methods were still primitive and that confusion abounded regarding what constituted good hygienic practice. I was further dismayed to discover that in many instances nothing was done to stanch menstrual flow: bleeding directly into the underwear was permitted. Kudos, then, to the two eminent German women, Almut Junker and Eva Stille, who denounced this practice, stating "it is completely disgusting to bleed into your chemise, and wearing that same chemise for four to eight days can cause infections".

Pads, sponges and crude retaining harnesses, I discovered, were used at best to implement the absorption of menstrual discharge. Perhaps the most sensible persons at the time were gynecological advisors who recommended that these contraptions be discarded altogether and who advised women not to wear underpants at all during their periods. The women thus advised were cautioned not to discuss their mode of dress with anyone lest men should overhear them and try to get a peek up the skirts. (From Mr. Bloom's experience growing up in a small town, mischievous young boys posed a greater threat.)

A profundity gleaned at MUM must not escape mention, viz., "Without underpants, women's crotches are ventilated and dry instead of unventilated and damp. Fungi and bacteria proliferate in warm, damp areas where there is nutrition. Female vaginal and vulval fluids are nutritious, and underpants, particularly tight fitting ones, create a near-ideal environment for undesirable fauna and flora". Amen.


Without adequate hygiene no person is completely acceptable to his peers. We all shun people who smell bad. "Cleanliness is next to godliness" is a timeless adage. We have seen how the ancient Israelite woman was obliged to endure a separation during her monthly infirmity, a practice which in today's eyes must be viewed as grossly demeaning. But let us not hasten to be judgmental and gainsay the prevailing wisdom of antiquity.

Had the nineteenth century man been aware of what was going on in a woman's nether regions during her period as she walked the streets in her finery, he would have been appalled, nay stupefied. His ignorance was bliss. Modern hygienic methods and practices have indeed proven to be a priceless boon for all womankind.

Old customs disappeared but down through the millennia a certain stigma attached to woman would remain. Had even the tampon had been available, supplanting inferior makeshift paraphernalia, chances are that stigma would have been long removed, and in due process, more than 3000 years of unwarranted submission to man obviated, elevating woman long ago to her proper station in life as a peer alongside man.


You are in the company boardroom for an important conference. With fellow board members you apprehensively await the arrival of the newly appointed CEO. She is a woman of whom little is yet known. After an appropriate delay, she finally arrives, and everyone there is immediately overwhelmed by an extremely foul odor coming from her. It turns out she is experiencing menstruation that is highly aromatic. She doesn't believe in practicing feminine hygiene, and to boot, she hasn't taken a bath in three weeks. How long do you think the board members would last there? (More obvious questions are left unstated). Happily such an improbable meeting of the minds does not occur in today's world. Instead the CEO is freshly scrubbed, tampon in place, and one is invigorated in her redolence that is as sweet as freshly mown hay.

Now go back 3500 years and imagine yourself in the midst of the Israelite camp. There is a tent, rather small, set apart from the others. Huddled together inside is a clutch of women undergoing a separation for uncleanness, all of whom are experiencing menstruation of an odorous sort. You presumably do not know this as you lift the flap to peer inside.

Your designs are thwarted. Before you can focus properly, you are rebuffed by an incredible stink, utterly ruining the adventure. You flee in dismay wondering what could possibly be in there.

It would be a good place for jokers to spend a purgatory.

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Amazing women! | the art of menstruation | artists (non-menstrual) | asbestos | belts | bidets | founder bio | Bly, Nellie | MUM board | books: menstruation and menopause (and reviews) | cats | company booklets directory | contraception and religion | costumes | menstrual cups | cup usage | dispensers | douches, pain, sprays | essay directory | extraction | famous women in menstrual hygiene ads | FAQ | founder/director biography | humor | huts | links | masturbation | media coverage of MUM | miscellaneous | museum future | Norwegian menstruation exhibit | odor (olor)| pad directory | patent medicine | poetry directory | products, current | religion | your remedies for menstrual discomfort | menstrual products safety | science | shame | slapping, menstrual | sponges | synchrony | tampon directory | early tampons | teen ads directory | tour of the former museum (video) | underpants directory | videos, films directory | Words and expressions about menstruation | Would you stop menstruating if you could? | What did women do about menstruation in the past? | washable pads

Take a short tour of MUM! (and on Web video!) - FAQ - Future of this museum - Tampon Safety Act - Visit or contact the actual museum - Board of Directors - Norwegian menstruation exhibit - The media and the MUM - Menstrual odor - Prof. Mack C. Padd: Fat Cat - The science and medicine of menstruation - Early tampons - Books about menstruation - Menstrual cups: history, comments - A Note from Germany/Neues aus Deutschland und Europa - Letters - Links

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