The Case of the Disintigrating Maxi Pad - or Why Some Things Should Never Be Purchased at the Dollarama

Today's date is the 12th of November and I'm cautiously eating a small container of Activia yogurt that has been dated "best before" November 10th.



I share this because just one short week ago the Poolboy and I had a stand off in the dairy section of our local grocery store when he put two large cases into our cart.

"What's the best before date on those?" I asked, already knowing it was soon or El Cheapo would not be buying in volume.

"November 10th," says the man I married, "And before you get crazy about it, I take these in my lunch everyday."

"I'm not going crazy," I said, "It's just that I threw out a half case of expired Yoplait before we left and I think we'd save more money in the long run if we started buying dairy that hasn't been marked down."

People, you'd have thought I suggested we buy bull testicles.

"Have you seen the regular price on Activia? OUTRAGEOUS!"

Which is why I'm eating expired yogurt and contemplating how much longer it will be safe to keep the other, unopenened case in the fridge before it starts to mutate.



But this blog isn't about groceries.

It's about the dollar store - or more specifically, the Dollarama. My Poolboy's favourite place after the flea market, to get his shop on.

And he got his shop on big time last weekend during a routine patrol of the feminine protection aisle.



One has to wonder what thoughts ran through the man's head as he Doh dodey oh dohed his way down the aisle and sifted through rows of mass produced tampons, panti-liners, and pads - comparative shopping for the best buys while trying to discern which varietal would leave me feeling fresh and confident.

I know.

There are name brand maxi's, no name maxi's, and then there are the Dollarama's - twelve pads for a buck.

Proving that the expression "you get what you pay for," is certainly applicable in the world of feminine hygiene.

I know this because the Poolboy came home with five packs of overnight pads claiming I would get triple the value than if I'd bought one package of Stay Free.

Ever trusting, I agreed to the usage of the "Femline Protection" brand and despite their bulky appearance, decided to be a good sport about it.

An hour later, the best way to describe the condition of the pad was that it was disintegrating.

I have no idea what it's actually made of, but unlike the stalwart pads we see in commercials sopping up gallons of blue tinted water, the slightest hint of moisture in the Femline for women, causes it to detach from it's protective plastic and break into chunks of assorted size and texture.

So much so that tiny pieces of it fell down the pant leg of the pyjamas I was wearing leaving a trail reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel from the living room to the bathroom.

Now I have 59 over night maxi pads in extra long taking up space in a bathroom cupboard because the Poolboy won't let me throw them out.

Instead, he's going to take his cheap ass downtown this weekend and donate them.

You read that right.

The man I vowed to love and honour for a lifetime is going to donate dollar store maxi pads to the homeless and isn't the slightest bit embarassed about it.

All I can say is if there are bits and pieces of disintegrating maxi pads lining the road by the Salvation Army next week, blame it on the Poolboy.

And that's the blog.

Now tell me, what products do you insist have to be name brand and do you ever buy No Name?

As always, my enquiring mind wants to know!

Have a fabulous Thursday!

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