It’s a period emergency kit for teachers to give to gals in their classes who need supplies. But it’s not just a couple pads. It’s a way to repurpose all those freebie makeup bags so many of us have laying around. It’s a way to take the embarrassment out of having an emergency like this.
And it’s a little bit of brightness during a difficult time.
Long version: I was doing some decluttering when I came upon a cache of old Ipsy bags (zipper-top makeup bags, about 7”x4”) and a box of pads I bought, but never opened. I thought, “Wow, these bags are the perfect size for pads!” So I was racking my brain about what I could do with 7 or 8 Ipsy bags and a box of pads.
I sent a text to a teacher friend of mine and asked what the process was if a gal in her class had an emergency and didn’t have any supplies. She said she buys pads to keep in her desk, in case they are needed, but the gals didn’t have a way to hide the pad if they didn’t have a purse or something.
I immediately had a flashback to middle school.
Knowing suddenly I needed to change out my pad, but not having one with me. Filled with dread, I trudged to the nurse’s office (I didn’t even know her!) and sheepishly asked for one. She was kind. She opened a drawer and pulled out a pad. But this was no ordinary pad. This pad looked like it was made to fit a horse. Or a giant. I mean, this thing was HUGE. And it wasn’t even folded up. Huge.
Completely mortified, I waited until I was out of her office to shove the cotton monstrosity under my shirt to try and hide it while I shuffled the 900 miles of hallways to the restroom, hoping to God herself that there were no stains on my shorts.
You get the picture, right? Days like this are so stressful for students. Embarrassing. Traumatic. Even scary. I remember these instances from middle school, 20 years later. HELLO FLO aims to try to take the drama out of this experience.
So, let’s revisit my day back in middle school when I knew I had an emergency on my hands. I head over to my teacher, who I know much better and am more comfortable with than the nurse.
She hooks me up with a cute bag of sweet, discreet salvation that I can take with me to the restroom without feeling like every single eye is on me carrying that elephant-sized pad under my shirt.
I go straight to the restroom without having to make a field trip to the nurse. I get to the restroom with minimal terror, but the toilet paper is thin and falls away when you get it wet. Uh, annoying.
A voice from above: “Girl, you need a wipe! Look in the bag.”
Oh. Sweet! A wipe. I dig around in the bag. There’s a sanitary bag to wrap my pad so I can throw it away. Some hand sanitizer to freshen my hands up!
That voice again: “Girl, this has been mega-dramatic, so you need some candy. Maybe a couple pieces. And some chapstick. Treat yo self. All in the bag.”