Am I Right Ladies? You’re My Doll, Midol

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.

Share This Post: