I Am The Only Tampon in The Beast’s Castle
…And I’m Terrified that a Woman Just Moved In
Look, I want to be human again just like all the other enchanted objects in this castle but as the only tampon in this cursed place, I absolutely do not want a woman living here. If I’m used once, I will die! And if I’m going to die in any pool of blood I’d much rather it be my own.
When I was human, I was the castle’s midwife but after the spell was cast I was turned into a tampon. Being a tampon really isn’t that bad when there are no menstruating women in the building. Before Belle arrived I often reminisced about my human years with Mrs. Potts, enjoyed moonlit trysts with Lumiere, and slept soundly within the drawers of Madame de la Grande Bouche. But now that Belle is here I shiver in cold terror from my hiding place disguised as a finger of a cherub on the ballroom ceiling.
When Belle first arrived all the other objects jumped for joy. Whispers of “Maybe she’s the one, the one to break the spell!” filled the halls. But not me, no. As the only tampon in this dank place, I was terrified. I kept having nightmares of my unceremonious funeral: A beautifully manicured finger digging around for my string, pulling my heavy lifeless body from the darkness and dumping me to rot in a landfill for the next 450 years.
I attempted to point out to The Beast that for my sake and for Belle’s he should stock the castle with some feminine hygiene products but all he did was let out a roar followed by a gruff “eww” and retreated to the West Wing.
Oh, I’m sorry Beast, is it hard being a man trapped inside a monster’s body talking to a tampon about periods? Do you know what’s even harder? Being a woman trapped inside a tampon trapped inside another woman’s body and literally drowning!
Sorry, it’s just that it’s difficult being the only animated object whose life somehow got worse when the thing we’ve been praying to happen, actually happened. You don’t think I want to befriend Belle too? Every day I fight the feeling of a song in my heart and the need to sing it to her. While Lumiere was busy singing about how to eat, I was thinking up songs to explain the dangers of toxic shock syndrome.
But unfortunately, Belle must never see me. In a castle with only itchy tulle to stop the flow she’ll definitely be desperate enough to use me. Even despite my screams of protest emanating from her crotch as I slowly soak up her blood.
Oh, what a curse, to be turned into an enchanted one-use tampon in a castle with a woman of childbearing age. All I can do now is pray that Belle doesn’t find me or the spell breaks before she does.
God, life with Belle would be much less stressful if I were an enchanted Diva Cup.
Briana Haynie is a comedy writer living in Los Angeles. Her personal brand can be described as an American Girl Doll who has given up. Follow her on Twitter.
