Is That a Sandwich in Your Pants or Are You Just on Your Period?

I am what marketers would call a brand loyal consumer. When I find something I like, I tend to stick with it.

I have been a Diet Coke girl all my life. Diet Pepsi? Bleh. I'm sure Pepsi devotees are just as stalwart in their preferences.

This can be extremely helpful in a society dominated by consumerism where we are constantly bombarded with option upon option. Research has shown that having more choices can make us less happy than having fewer ones. Finding something and sticking with it has its merits.

When I find myself needing to switch things up, I often stay within the same brand family. That is, if I am happy with their product to begin with.

Take, for instance, the Gillette Sensor razor, which was such an improvement over the generic pink plastic version I used as a high schooler. In recent years, Gillette has launched the Venus Divine and Embrace. The upgrade was totally worth it.

Sometimes finding The One – whether it be a shampoo or a cracker – can take years.

You see, I'm incredibly cheap. If I take a wrong turn and end up with something less than satisfactory, I feel compelled to see it through. And since I'm not thrilled with it, that can take forever.

I took me years to find a sanitary napkin that I liked. (Do people still call them that? I am having flashbacks to jumpy videos playing in fifth grade science class. "Maxi pad?")

I had been using the same brand for years but I wasn't thrilled with it. I was just tired of looking. Then one day, I came across another brand that caught my eye. It was less expensive than what I'd been using (see cheap, above) and I was willing to give it a shot.

It became my favorite brand. I've stuck with it ever since to cover my lady time needs.

Until recently.

Two months ago I couldn't find it anywhere. I figured our normal store was just out of stock, so I checked WalMart and Target. No luck. The company's website revealed what I was dreading: they stopped making it.

I was devastated.

I put off looking for a new brand until the last possible minute. I was down to the wire and had to pull the trigger.

As I scanned the aisle for a good replacement, I was overwhelmed by the choices. Wings, moisture lock, scents and more.

I wasn't too psyched about spending so much time in the feminine hygiene aisle. After all, who ever feels like announcing to the world, "HEY GUYS! I'VE GOT MY PERIOD!"

Stymied, I reached for a pack of my old brand (see, loyal above) and headed home.

When the time came for me to crack open my new package, I watched in horror as the product didn't so much fold out as it unfurled. It was ginormous.

My first thought was, "I'm wearing a Subway sandwich."

(Think: "Five. Five dollar. Five dollar footlong.")

I looked at the box and, sure enough, in my haste I had grabbed the overnight style. I was so overwhelmed by the wings and moisture lock that I failed to detect the most basic of criteria: size. The thing was huge.

But it was time for work, so I stuck it on and went on my merry little way.

Only my way wasn't that merry.

After walking just a few paces, I realized in horror that the pad made noise. Its plastic protective layer rustled with every step. It reminded me of the organist at the end of "Sixteen Candles" who creaked as she walked through the church.

Worse still, it made me think, "This is what wearing adult diapers must feel like."

I was mortified.

Suddenly announcing to the world, "I'M ON MY PERIOD!" didn't seem so bad. Certainly much better than, "HEY GUYS! I'M WEARING ADULT DIAPERS!"

If a friend were in this predicament, I would tell her, "It's only $5, just buy another pack."

But I stuck it out because I'm cheap.

That was two months ago and it is nearing time for me to find another pad. I have no desire to put a giant sandwich in my underwear and crinkle through my day.

I am already girding my loins for a thorough review of the vast napkin buffet in the feminine hygiene aisle. And I am mentally preparing to spend a little more until I find The New One.

After all, if I'm willing to spend $5 on a sandwich, certainly I could invest the same in my dear Aunt Flo.