Eliminate Feminine Odor - Stat! - with MONISTAT®

Everything you own takes maintenance. Your car. Your lawn. Your teeth. (And if you're like me, your facial hair. Don't judge.) Some things, though, are blessedly more low-maintenance than others. Like... THE VAGINA. Aside from the occasional aesthetic trim-up (please, ladies, on behalf of gynecologists and significant others everywhere), your girly bits don't require a whole lot.

Still, "she" deserves some special care - you two have been through a lot together. And goodness knows you don't want her to, you know, act up. Now, thanks to the Complete Care™ line of products from Monistat®, you can maintain your vag's natural health and well-being. (Monistat®: it's not just for yeast infections anymore!) A fresh and well-balanced vagina is a... well, a fresh and well-balanced vagina. And the Monistat® Complete Care™ line is the best thing to happen to vaginas since... well, I'll let you determine the best thing to happen to vaginas.

Take, for example, the issue of occasional vaginal odor. If it's a chronic problem and people are, like, wrinkling their noses when you walk by, it's probably something you should bring up with your gyno. Just sayin'. But if you're the owner of a lady-garden, which I'm sure you are if you're still reading, you've no doubt experienced a little: after all, studies show that one out of three women have (and the two that haven't are probably lying. Because COME ON.)

That's where Stay Fresh Gel from Monistat® Complete Care™ comes in. It's a paraben-free, fragrance-free (read: vag-friendly) gel that actually helps maintain the proper vaginal pH - and each simple application helps your flower smell fresh for three whole days. Unlike other products which just mask odor, Stay Fresh Gel helps eliminate it. So you don't have to walk around smelling like a... well, I won't elaborate, but y'all get the idea.

To check out this amazing gel and the rest of the Monistat® Complete Care™ line, click here. Tell you what: I'll even hook you (and your vagina) up with a sweet coupon - three dollahs off! Just click here.

Monistat® wants to help you take control of your feminine health. Tell us about the way in which you take control and care for your body for a chance to win a $100 VISA gift card plus a full size sample of Stay Fresh Gel from Monistat® Complete Care™. Here are the official rules.
Awwww yeeeeeahh. (Psst ... you don't have to disclose anything private, I'm just talking about your self-care in general!)

I have received product from Monistat® and was compensated to write this review.

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This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older (or nineteen (19) years of age or older in Alabama and Nebraska). Winners will be selected via random draw, and will be notified by e-mail. The notification email will come directly from BlogHer via the sweeps@blogher email address. You will have 2 business days to respond; otherwise a new winner will be selected. If your comment relates to or describes any product or your experience with the product, do not describe or recommend any use of the product that is not recommended on the product’s packaging or labeling, such comments will be deleted.

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How to Poop in Public (Without Giving a Crap)

I can't, can't, absolutely cannot poop in public except under very specific circumstances. For reasons unknown to me, I have zero problems discussing it on the Internet (haaaaay, high school crushes and former teachers!), but when it comes to the actual act it's pretty much a solid "hell naw."

You'd think that as a mother, I'd be used to pooping in the presence of others. But even though my kids won't leave me alone while I drop deuce (you'd think the smell would act as a deterrent, right?), it's a whole different story. Because there's a certain comfort level with the people you birthed and whose butts you wiped-or-are-still-wiping. You can poop in their presence with relatively little embarrassment, even while being peppered with questions about your vagina/underwear/cellulite. You can settle a dispute and handle your personal business at the same time, almost effortlessly: "No, your brother (grunt) had the Ninja Turtle first. (plop)." Parental multitasking at its finest.

Pooping in a public restroom, however, requires a level of not giving a damn that I just don't possess. I guess it's because when you dump in public, you're forcing everyone in the vicinity to be subjected to your stench. We've all been there: you're accosted by a vile aroma from an adjacent stall. The odor is bad just by itself, but worse is the psychological impact of knowing that it originated from within the depths of a stranger's bowels. And you sit there, bristling with indignation while you pee, like how dare they inconsiderately stink up the common air you're trying to breathe? HOW DARE YOU, MADAM?

If there are accompanying sounds? Well. Just add another layer of scathing judgment. Because this person is obviously gross in every way and they and their nasty vocalizing asshole have just ruined your bathroom experience. Probably on purpose. It's like they didn't even care. Hmmmph.

I don't want to be the target of such loathing in the loo, so I avoid the public poop at all costs. Unless I can't: like last weekend, when I relived my college years at BlogU, a blogging conference held on a campus. I stayed in the dorms with a communal bathroom, and was instantly transported to The Great Fecal Withholding of '98, when I spent the first three weeks of my freshman year miserably constipated due to an inability to poop in the presence of others. My "Freshman Fifteen" was probably just fifteen pounds of crap I never managed to expel.

Sometimes, though - when push comes to shove and you've got a massive dump honking for the right-of-way - you have no other choice. So to get yourself ready for the inevitable, plan ahead with these five helpful tips so you can boldly "GO" where ... well, where tons of men have gone before.

Start with a small stall. Being instantly comfortable with pooping in a heavy-traffic, multi-stall restroom is like thinking you can handle the freeway on first day you get your driver's license: an unreasonable expectation. You need to start out in a restroom that's smaller, yet still public. Like maybe at a locally-owned bookstore or something. Psychologists call this cognitive behavioral therapy; I call it Public Poopin' Practice (or "triple P" when I want to make myself sound "hip" by using an acronym like all the kids). By breaking free of your crapping comfort zone in smaller, more manageable steps, you can build up to a shameless shite in even the busiest of bathrooms.

Master the art of ninja poopery. There are a few tricks to slide in, slide one out, and slip away unnoticed. For example, squatting on the toilet as opposed to sitting: number one, your ass doesn't have to touch the yucky toilet seat, and number two (haha, see what I did there?), squatting is actually the most optimal position for doing the doo-doo. I know this because I read an article about it once, and because SCIENCE. Anyway. If you squat, no one can see your feet - they'll just assume they've come upon a locked stall and move on to the next. You could also carry a spare pair of shoes with you, change into them upon your arrival into the stall, and then change back to your normal shoes before exiting so nobody will recognize you as The Pooper by your choice of footwear.

Getcha some Poo-Pourri. This is a spray made of distilled unicorn urine that envelops each turd in an odor-blocking polyurethane barrier. Or maybe it's actually just some lovely-scented essential oil that you spritz in the water before you "drop the kids off at the pool." Either way, it traps those pesky pungent odor molecules, preventing them from escaping into the air, and everybody wins. Breathe easy, stallmates.

Secure some signage. In this day and age, access to a good graphic creation program is ridiculously easy. Why not type yourself up an official-looking sign to carry around? It could say something like, "WE'RE SORRY, THIS RESTROOM IS TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE." Maybe you could even add in a little graphic - like a toilet with one of those red "NO" symbols around it. Or I know! A biohazard symbol! Then you could laminate it so it looks extra-legit, because laminated things are fancy. Tote it around in your purse or briefcase along with some tape (or chewing gum?) to adhere it to any bathroom door, and voila - a private poop, guaranteed.

Stop giving a shit. I don't mean this literally, of course, because if you could actually stop there'd be zero reason for this post. What I mean is, remind yourself that everybody poops. ERRY. BODY. Just like we all fart. It is a thing that links literally the entire human population; transcending race, gender, culture, socioeconomic status, and toilet-paper-roll-placement-preference (which needless to say is over, not under). You cannot be too famous or too wise or too pretty to poop. I may actually be pooping as I type this ... I have a laptop, you know. (Okay, I'm not really, but MAN that's a brilliant idea.) And if you need portable reassurance, a tangible touchstone of crappin' confidence, you can carry around a copy of Everybody Poops 410 Pounds a Year: An Illustrated Bathroom Companion for Grown-Ups to remind you of just how level this playing field really is.

Now: go forth and publicly poop with pride. There's no shame in your defecation game! And if someone in the restroom gives you the "I know it was you" side-eye, just be like, "YEAH, I POOPED, SO WHAT?" (and, like, throw your hands up for emphasis).

They might be appalled by your stink, but they'll be so amazed by your confidence that they'll forget all about it.

Disclosure: this post includes affiliate links, so basically I get a few cents from every bottle of poop spray or bathroom book you purchase. Help a sista out so I can buy my own.


The Internet is a useful tool for the gathering and exchange of information and knowledge. Or, like ... it would be if I didn't fall down online rabbit-holes like, "What Does Your Pubic Hair Say About You?" and videos of cats knocking things off of things.

So this morning I was trying to get some work done (honest! I swear!) which, you know, kind of involved some Facebook. And I saw a link somebody shared about a woman folding towels.

Now - we all know folding towels is about as boring as watching paint dry, or sitting through an episode of Dora. I don't even like to fold my own towels, so why for the love of God would I want to watch eighteen minutes of someone else doing it? But the link promised that a heavenly experience awaited those who clicked. (Much like the "MEET SEXY SINGLE MEN IN YOUR AREA" emails in my spam folder.) And so I clicked. I could probably spare eighteen minutes. Sort of.

At first, I was actually a little put off. My brow furrowed as I listened to a woman talk in a whisper about how she was gonna fold some towels. My first thought was, "Michelle Duggar is folding towels on YouTube now?" I mean, I know there was a scandal, but wow.

Despite myself, I was soon mesmerized, staring at the towel-torial with absolutely no idea what she was saying but completely engrossed in the way she was saying it. It was like somebody petting a bunny or comforting a kitten. It was like my brain was wrapped in that silky-fuzzy stuff they make those super-comfy socks out of and cuddled up in front of a picture window with a gentle thunderstorm outside, eating one of those chocolate cakes-in-a-mug. I felt strangely peaceful and drowsy. WHAT WAS THIS TOWEL-FOLDING SORCERY?!

Later in the day, when my toddler's nap time rolled around, I thought that he, too, could benefit from this lady's mad towel-folding skillz (or at least the magical wonder-osity of her soothing voice). He looked at me kind of weird when I suggested laying down and "listening to someone fold towels" but he complied nonetheless, and I shit you not - he was fast asleep within two minutes. And I may have fallen asleep for a little bit myself. Although if anyone asks, I was "resting my eyes."

I was intrigued by this towel folding video, y'all. And because my laundry was entirely caught up and my house was spotless and my work was completely up-to-date (cough cough), I had plenty of time to look the Titillating Towel Talker up on the Internet (her name is Maria). Not only did I find her YouTube channel where she has a ton of videos like this - not of towels exclusively, but just of her talking about random stuff in that voice - but I found this super-interesting article from The Atlantic called "How to Have a 'Brain Orgasm.'"

Apparently it's an actual phenomenon called ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response) and it is the very reason why, as a child, I used to drag my blanket in front of our TV and nap to the soothing sounds of Bob Ross and his 'fro. Oh, the infinite weirdness of the brain! See for yourself, but don't blame me if you drool on your keyboard.

Anyway. Because of this, I got pretty much two things done today:
- nap resting my eyes
- this post

Fighting off Frumpy: making pointless topics into entire blog posts since 2009. But if Maria can whisper about folding towels for a living, damn it ...


I'm typically pretty quiet about my beliefs. That is, until something truly and deeply pisses me off.

And today, it's Caitlyn Jenner.

No: it's not Caitlyn Jenner herself (who, for anyone who doesn't know, is the woman - and YES, that's what she is now - formerly known as Bruce). More accurately, it's the hate-spewing assholes who are bashing her. And more specifically, it's those who are saying there's nothing heroic about what she is doing.

I can't imagine what it's like to live your entire life feeling like you're not being true to yourself. I'm so fortunate to not be in that position - but for those who are, I'm sure it's a nightmare. Inside, they feel one way, while outside, the world expects them to be completely different. To go against what feels natural to them, simply to appease someone else's idea of what they "should" be. Transgendered people are fighting this sort of internal turmoil, every day. It's a struggle that costs lives - like Leelah Alcorn's. Like many others who have felt strongly enough about this to die because of it. How dare anyone say this is not "real" or "legitimate" and that these people are just sick?

Here's the thing that pisses me off the most. I have seen no shortage of Facebook posts today about how "we shouldn't call Caitlyn Jenner a hero because what she's doing pales in comparison to ... (insert war hero/conservative activist/Duggar here)." I'm throwing down the bullshit card so hard it's bouncing off the table. WHY do people think it's necessary to have to different levels of heroism? I agree: comparing Caitlyn Jenner to a war veteran is indeed ridiculous. But only because that's like comparing apples and oranges.

I'll tell you what, anyone who is using that weak-ass rant: the next time you see on Facebook that someone has died of cancer - and there are comments like, "She fought so bravely" - I DARE you to use this same line of reasoning and say, "Oh, you think that's brave? Well (insert war hero/conservative activist/Duggar here) ... now that person embodies true bravery." I guarantee, someone will quickly rip you the new one that you so rightly deserve.

Heroism and bravery are so, so subjective. From the small acts that we consider personal triumphs to the selfless sacrifices of those who give their all for social change - any one of those things can be defined as such. Caitlyn Jenner may not be charging into war and obliterating the enemy for the sake of a free America. But do you know what she is doing? She is very publicly acknowledging what is a very private - and unfortunately, very shameful - battle for lots of people. And for those people, she is a hero - because her bravery may well be the difference between their happiness and their sad, untimely, unnecessary demise.

Carry on, Caitlyn. Carry. On.


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