(World) – The vagina. That fleshy butterfly, salted away between a woman’s thighs. There it remains, shrouded in taboo mystery. Concealed. Hidden, and for good reason…
A mere glance at the female reproductive organ makes one cringe in repulsion. Like a perpetually gushing wound, its visage triggers the brain’s panic receptors and induces a “fight or flight” response.
A woman’s face can be an image of heaven. A woman’s genitalia, however, will always be a vision of hell.
As a female, I’m sure you have found the public purchase of feminine hygiene products to be deeply humiliating. Under your arm is the diaper sized package intended to sop up nature’s little monthly curse. The entire store seems to go silent as you take that walk of shame through the checkout stand. Exposed. Raped by the cruel jeers of the clerk and your fellow patrons. All of them projecting the harsh knowledge that soon, those elephant mattresses will be pressed against your profusely bleeding baby cave.
Maybe it would be best for all involved if women-only specialty stores were implemented for the sale and purchase of these shameful items we call “feminine hygiene products”.