Let’s face it girls, menstrual cramps are the worst. I’m talking worse than running out of your last box of Thin Mints. And you had a stash of 20 cases. That’s ripping-pictures-of-your-cat-off-your-bedroom-wall bad! While there may not be a cure for Girl Scout cookie withdrawal (I’m looking at you Merck), we can count ourselves lucky that the world has given us Midol for when being a woman is an ugly business. Then again, when is it not, amirightladies? Just kidding. Hormones, ugh.
Mostly I refer to Midol as my savior often, out loud and to anyone listening (willingness is optional, boys). But an interesting thing happened to me the other day, females. As I felt the familiar throbbing heat pulsing throughout my body like a nuclear meltdown of tears and chocolate cravings – I found myself wondering “what does Midol think about me?” Call me Nancy Drew, but I think a brief jaunt through the history of Midol advertising just might answer that question. First things first, though, where the f**k did I hide my emergency supply of Tagalongs? Oh that’s right, in this box of Trefoils.