What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A.

Imagine the scene – Our hero arrives home from work late, after a tough day at the office. There is a lightning bolt strike in his head as a migraine kicks in to full effect. His pain is visceral. He needs relief – fast.

He sheds his clothes, slips into his dressing gown and starts the search for pain killers. He checks the bedroom – no luck. Looks in the kitchen cupboards – nothing there. He then starts hunting through the bathroom cabinets. All in complete silence as he doesn’t want to wake his son sleeping in the next room, and jarring noises would make him cringe with pain anyway.

Success! He finds a bottle of Tylenol Extra Strength, but upon prising the lid open realises that all that remains inside is cotton wool. He curses, wondering why they put cotton wool in pill bottles anyway, but there’s no time to waste and his hunt continues.

Finally he finds a bottle at the back of a bottom drawer which looks like it will ease his pain. He grabs for it and slowly turns it around so he can read the label. His vision screams as his headache kicks into overdrive. The white type on the red background jumps out, and he reads it aloud: “Women’s Tylenol – Menstrual Relief“.

Now his mind is racing – is he willing to cope with the pain of his headache, or does he choke down some of the pills regardless of the consequences? This is like the red pill/blue pill scene in “The Matrix“, but only worse, because there is only one choice … the red pill.

Our hero cracks open the bottle, throws four white bullets down his throat and swallows. He crawls into bed, passes out, and dreams of waking up with no backache, no cramp, and enjoying temporary relief from water-weight gain, bloating, swelling and/or the full feeling associated with premenstrual and menstrual periods. But above all, he dreams of waking up without a headache.

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