Sherlock Holmes and the Mysterious Missing Tampax

This week the phenomanon that is Feminine-Menstrual-Synchronicity has demonstrated itself in our very colourful toilet bin. Little wrappers of every imaginable colour, texture and pattern plus discretely wrapped lumps and wads fill the push-pedal vessle to the brim. Now, when in a small office with an equal ratio of men to women you like to keep “the blob” secret and so any respectable woman keeps her Tampax (or whatever) in the bathroom.

Now, upon returning to the bathroom I assume the position but SHOCK HORROR! My last Tampax has gone. I checked the bin by shaking it and tossing over the contents like a revolting salad and noted that my Tampax had indeed been used as I mentally noted how many little yellow packets I had indeed spent compared with the number in the bin. Horrible I know but it has to be done.

Now, there are 5 women in my office including myself. I am slim, a size 5 shoe and have never had children. All this I think attributes to my “regular” yellow tampon size. Now my mother keeps reminding me that after childbirth your bits are never the same as are your innards and so your periods are much more horrific than before the day you give birth. This leads me to consider that my two colleagues who are both mothers and both have big feet can not be the guilty culprits!

The two remaining women are both the same age, 35. Both are childless, healthy (one is diabetic however), small build and both are definately morally capable of stealing somebody else’s tampons! The clear defining points about these two women are, one is single and the other isn’t and one rides horses and the other doesn’t. Now I take on board all these myths elluding to female genitalia size. Large shoe size, horse-riding, lots of sex and laziness (do you pelvic floors girls!) all may result in slack snatch.

My horse-riding spinster and my diabetic friend living in sin both make good cases. One has more sex, the other rides horses. The latter has been sterilized, the former is obviously pinched so tight that its a wonder she can even piss however out of the two there is one clear winner!

Due to careful facial examinations my horse-rider is unlucky enough to have hit the menopause ten years early as telltale facial hair and a dry palour and the occasional hot-flush make her a dead giveaway! Well done, Spinster, your unfortunate biological clock has meant that you have narrowly escaped being hung by your thumbs for Grand Theft Tampon. SO I’m sorry, living-in-sin, diabetic girl – you are convicted of Tampax Larsony with intent to smear.

Now, justice shall be carried out by hiding her paracetamol!

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