Fits of Wit

Period Panties: A Modern Day Love Story

The other day I got what my grandmother calls “my monthly.” My period came unexpected as always. Sometimes every four weeks; sometimes eight. My period is a scarlet witch who flies into town any damn time she pleases. I don’t always mind since she’s ultimately there to reassure me no embryos have begun squatting in my body. For that, I am thankful.

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An unfortunate side effect of mystery menstruation is occasional blood soaked panties. The value of the panties determines whether or not I toss them into the trash or try my best to cleanse them of their deplorable state. After all, my panties were an innocent bystander. I don’t feel right sending them to their grave seeing that they were a faultless victim of my uterine war.

The panties in question this particular time were a favorite teal pair trimmed with lace. I made the disastrous discovery in the morning before work and didn’t have time to wash them. I set them on top of my hamper as a reminder to take care of the gruesome task later when I arrived home.

My work day was an epic battle between cramps and aspirin. I contemplated medicating even more but instead consumed 300 pounds of chocolate to numb the pain. It worked. 5pm came and I drove home elated that I made it through the day without screaming at a wall or a tampon going rogue.

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Upon arriving home I walked upstairs to take care of my bloody bloomers only to discover they were no longer where I had left them. My husband had taken the day off from work so I promptly headed downstairs to imply where my incriminating undergarments might be.

“Have you seen the underwear that was on top of my hamper?”

“Yeah, I washed them for you,” he replied.

I walked around the corner to the laundry room. Hanging on the drying rack were my panties, almost sparkling and with no trace of Aunt Flow’s revenge. Usually when I washed them there was a discolored patch of evidence. MY HUSBAND HAD DONE A BETTER JOB AT WASHING MY PERIOD PANTIES THAN I EVER HAD. If there were a class entitled Sullied Skivvies Sanitization 101, he would pass with flying colors.

I couldn’t let him know he had beat me at the laundering of dirty delicates, but I had to know his secret.

“My undies look pretty good. How did you wash them?” I asked.

“Well, first I scrubbed them with the advanced stain gel. I scrubbed and scrubbed while also running them under water. The sponge was kind of big so I ended up getting the corner parts by rubbing it with my fingers. Then I threw them in the washer.”

My husband’s response was the sexiest thing I had ever heard. I’ve read copious amounts of love stories and watch the occasional rom com. Not even a Nicholas Sparks character could compete with my husband, who not only washed my soiled dainties without me asking, but also used his fingers to do so without flinching. Happy tears formed in the corners of my eyes and my lips attacked his face, nearly ripping off his flesh, lovingly, of course.

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Everyone sees romance differently. To some, it’s grand gestures. Other couples surprise each other with flowers and gluttonous amounts of sweets. After a while though, it’s the little things. Nine years ago I would have never thought that the guy I assumed was a fling, would end up being comfortable enough with me to manually scour my cherry tainted drawers.

Sure, it’s gross, but that’s the meaning of marriage. For better or worse, bloody or jiggly, til death do us part. I am convinced there is no one better to take care of me in sickness and in health than the man who tediously washed my period panties just because he cares. I am also cocksure his body fluid clean-up skills will come in handy the day after we retire and decide to become silver-haired outlaws.

*all gifs found at giphy.com

33 Comments

  1. Mike G.

    He’s a good man. I shared that task for the first twenty five or so years of our marriage. Now that the Red River has all but dried up, I don’t have that chore any more. Of course there have been other twat juices I’ve laundered without one word of complaint. For stubborn stains might I suggest a laundry-use-only tooth brush to scrub the dainties?

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      I THINK we have a toothbrush just for scrubbing somewhere in the house. I’ll take a look.
      Oh, and if you could never use the words “twat juice” again, that would be greeeeaaaat.
      I can handle the word juice by itself but anytime it’s associated with body fluids I want to jump into a vat of bleach.

      Reply
      1. Mike G.

        After the gif you loaded that looked like The Shining meets The Ten Commandments your having problems with tw*t juice? Okay, if you insissssssst.

        Reply
  2. Fannie Frankfurter

    Wow, sounds like you’ve got a keeper! I’m a little jealous.

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      Well we’re married so I’m kinda forced to “keep” him at this point.
      Don’t be jelly.

      Reply
  3. Mara Eastern

    Agreed. Your husband is the most romantic husband ever!

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      I should make him a trophy. Of a man holding underwear.

      Reply
      1. Mara Eastern

        While naked. Just sayin.

        Reply
  4. Jessie Reyna

    This is probably one of the most amazing stories I’ve ever read. Completely unheard of. I vote Mr. Fits of Wit for President.

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      I’d make a bitchin’ first lady.

      Reply
  5. Annie Emmy Evans

    A few things… First of all, those illustrations totally creep me out. Secondly, I totally understand your pain. My Aunt Flo shows up whenever she dang well pleases… sometimes every other month, sometimes twice a month and I’m all, “What the hell?!” Lastly, you have THE BEST HUSBAND on the planet. I have NEVER heard of a man doing something so chivalrous. Most guys are totally weirded out by such things. Kudos to him!

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      I was surprised and awestruck.
      He’s pretty great.

      Reply
  6. Claire Duffy

    That may be the most romantic thing I’ve ever read, but I am utterly dazzled by the gif of the dancing tampon. It has made my day. Thank you.

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      I too am hypnotized by the tampon gif. He’s so confident.

      Reply
      1. Claire Duffy

        Exactly – a ballsy tampon. It doesn’t get much better than that.

        Reply
  7. bensbitterblog

    He pretty much puts all of us to shame.

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      I’ll tell him to tone it down. For the sake of other married men.

      Reply
      1. bensbitterblog

        Nah, keep him awesome like that. We all need something to be bitterly jealous of.

        Reply
      2. bensbitterblog

        Also, I noticed that you got cocksure in there that you promised on Facebook, so two thumbs up there.

        Reply
        1. FitsofWit

          I really want a word of the day calender but I think I’m about 5 months late on calender season.

          Reply
  8. NotAPunkRocker

    I’ll remember this if I ever hear a guy whine about buying tampons ever again “Wit’s husband did this…” 🙂

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      Hahaha. He’ll be an urban legend among boyfriends and husbands.

      Reply
  9. Phil Taylor

    Your husband is a better man than I am. Or he has OCD or a weird fetish.

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      OCD. Most definitely.

      Reply
  10. trillie

    That is the sweetest thing I ever heard! Also those gifs are awesome 😀

    Reply
  11. tomg1992

    As a panty-wearing and occasional tampon-using guy I can appreciate this story from both sides!

    Reply
  12. DitchTheBun

    This is amazing, chivalry is not dead! 🙂 My Hubby is pretty good with all kinds of cleaning up, his hobby is working on cars so he has to be pretty good at the whole stain removal thing, he throws his hands up at vomit though. That is his one thing, explosive diapers from the niece – sure, but hells no to the vomit 🙂 I guess everyone has that one thing hahaha.
    I must say I don’t think I have ever had a tampon go rogue, well my dog has stolen them… does that count? What exactly constitutes a “rogue” tampon? 🙂

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      A rogue tampon is one that despite having the responsibility of protecting your undergarments, it decides not to. Instead, it is overcome with the forceful Niagara-like flow, and allows leakage. Some say it is better to go with the “super” tampons during heavy flow days but sometimes one cannot get to the store in time and must settle with a lite size.

      Reply
      1. DitchTheBun

        Ahh I see 🙂 I completely understand that phrase now. I hate rogue tampons too, I refer to them as AWOL tampons because I know I stationed them there, but they appear to have abandonned their post 🙂

        Reply
  13. synergynow66

    I looked twice/ your hair is definitely ‘gloriously’ Red!……

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      Ah yes, the magical powers of boxed hair dye. Brunette by birth, forever redhead by choice.

      Reply
  14. disastersofathirtysomething

    That is – quite literally – one of the best things i’ve ever read.
    Props to you, young lady! And your awesome husband.

    Reply
    1. FitsofWit

      Thank you.

      Reply

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