“It’s Over, Tampon!” A Breakup Letter From My Menopausal Self

Irene Tassy
Irene Tassy
July 14, 2020

Dearest Tampon,

Why can’t you grasp that it’s OVER between us? I’ve changed, and now you’re useless to me. No, seriously. My body literally doesn’t need you anymore. I’ve stopped bleeding! This is a kind of freedom that just cannot be bought in the ‘feminine hygiene’ aisle.

There is zero reason for us to be in contact…which makes me unbelievably happy, honestly. But, I’ve decided to write this letter to offer you some closure (and also to assuage my celebration guilt).

I know you caught me celebrating that one day. Sorry. The champagne toast was uncalled for.

Now that you’re gone, I’m remembering all those awful times you let me down.

I’ll never forget the time I invited someone up while you were “working” (which to me always looked like you were just hanging out). My companion and I both went in and searched for you, but you were in a mood and hid. Eventually, you made an appearance. Enraged and deflated, you had shown your true colors — angry red, mostly. It was the longest 45 minutes of my life. I believe you called it “dicey.” No truer words.

The balloons and confetti were over the top though. Apologies.

I cringe remembering when you and your fellow tampon friend were in there together. After you were pulled to safety by professionals, you brooded for quite some time. I begged the doctors to let me see you. They thought I was “disturbed.” I was told to remember you the way you once were: slim, happy, and plump, full of promise.

I know you witnessed the celebration on the yacht. That was unfortunate. To my credit, I stopped singing the minute I saw you and refused to do the conga. I’m not a monster!

As long as we’re at it, I have to let you know that I never enjoyed your jokes. The phrase “paint the town red” was funny the first 10 times I heard it, but it quickly lost its appeal. And I know you thought “this is going to cost you an arm and an egg” was the height of comedy, but I disagree. Strongly.

I too can admit to not being perfect. I saw others while we were together. Some had wings, some were organic, and some even promised to stay with me overnight, which you could NEVER do. And although I strayed in our relationship, I want you to know that I was thinking of you the entire time.

In retrospect, the parade was thoughtless. I admit, I shouldn’t have had jugglers.

I’ve heard you’re seeing my younger friends these days. Such is the passing of time. I know they’re “fertile” and “can remember stuff,” but trust me, one day they won’t need you anymore either.

Although you used to fill a void within me, I now feel nothing but sheer joy at your absence. I just can’t go on pretending. Well…I could…but that would be super dry and uncomfortable for both of us.

And, per your request, I have canceled the billboard and fireworks display. You’re right. That’s too ‘show-boat-y.’

It’ll be hard to forget you, but I’ll sure as hell try. And no, there isn’t anyone else.

Yours, no more, thank God,

Irene

PS: My vagina sends its regards.