To the Tampon

men aren’t supposed to bleed.

To the Tampon
Photo by Aunt Flow / Unsplash

by Aarron Sholar

When my body begins to bleed again, I worry. It’s been years without it, years where my body was free and un-burdened. But now I allow it to bleed once again— men aren’t supposed to bleed. This blood is for a good reason, however; to have a baby with the man I love. The blood is only a mild annoyance. But I am unprepared. You, you tampon, I tried you before, when I was younger, to no avail. We weren’t meant to be, but now we have to be. Your cousin, the pad, is too cumbersome, and I have no proper women’s underwear to use to my advantage, and I don’t want to. And so, it is up to you, tampon. I try you first at my boyfriend’s place, and you go in begrudgingly. The next time is smoother. My new front tail that hangs from my vagina feels invisible, you feel invisible, and I feel free, even when the blood begins. I don’t have to worry about your positioning or about the feeling of the goop leaving my body. Sure, you take some more effort to switch out, but you’re less messy, so there’s that. It seems like maybe we are meant for each other. You stay in a spot I’m not entirely fond of, yet you help me forget about it— forget about you. I can be myself even during the blood, during this change, as my body prepares to carry a life that came from a sudden desire after meeting that same man. You, tampon, will be my partner, until I house another human.

Aarron Sholar’s works have been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He is a transgender writer who has pieces published in The McNeese Review, The Under Review, Thin Air Online, Sunspot Lit (awarded the Quarterly Editor’s Prize), Broadkill Review, and others. He holds a BA from Salisbury University and is an MFA candidate in CNF at MNSU, Mankato.