Feminine Hygiene company’s hilarious response to Facebook comment accusing them of lying about “Happy Periods”
A few weeks ago, a now-wildly popular comment was left on the Facebook page of Bodyform, the British feminine hygiene arm of Swedish consumer goods company SCA, accusing the company of false advertisement. Richard Neill left the comment (pictured below).
Neill’s totally sarcastic post has been liked over 80,000 times in just over a week, prompting Bodyform to release an equally hilarious tongue-in-cheek apology (in the video below) for its years of fabrications.
“I think it’s time we came clean,” says “CEO” Caroline Williams. “We lied to you Richard, and I want to say sorry. Sorry.”
This whole thing is hilarious! Enjoy.
“When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.
Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?
I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her!
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.
The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn’t have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.
In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.
This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month’s duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.
I told Jane about my wife’s divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.
My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.
She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.
Suddenly it hit me… she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.
Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.
But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove to office…. jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind…I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart. Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed -dead. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push through with the divorce.— At least, in the eyes of our son—- I’ma loving husband….
The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves.
So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!
Married or not you should read this…
A man bought a new Mercedes to celebrate his wife leaving him and was out on the interstate for a nice evening drive.
The top was down, the breeze was blowing through what was left of his hair and he decided to open her up.
As the needle jumped up to 80 mph, he suddenly saw flashing red and blue lights behind him.
“There’s no way they can catch a Mercedes,” he thought to himself and opened her up further.
The needle hit 90, 100…..Then the reality of the situation hit him. “What am I doing?” he thought and pulled over.
The cop came up to him, took his license without a word and examined it and the car.
“It’s been a long hard day, this is the end of my shift and it’s Friday the 13th.
I don’t feel like more paperwork, I don’t need the frustration or the overtime,
so if you can give me a really good excuse for your driving that I haven’t heard before, you can go.”
The guy thinks about it for a second and says, “Last week my nagging wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to give her back!”
“Have a nice weekend,” said the officer.
When John and Mary first got married John said, “I am a sex addict and I’m putting a box under the bed to help control my addiction. You must promise never to look in it.”
In all their 30 years of marriage Mary never looked. However, on the afternoon of their 30th anniversary, curiosity got the best of her and she lifted the lid and peeked inside. In the box were 3 empty beer cans and $81,874.25 in cash. She closed the box and put it back under the bed. Now that she knew what was in the box, she was doubly curious as to why there even was such a box with such contents.
That evening they were out for a special Anniversary dinner. After dinner Mary could no longer contain her curiosity and she confessed, saying, “I am so sorry. For all these years I kept my promise and never looked into the box under our bed. However, today the temptation was too much and I gave in. But now I need to know why do you keep the 3 beer cans in the box?”
John thought for a while and said, “I guess after all these years you deserve to know the truth. Whenever I was unfaithful to you I put an empty beer can in the box under the bed to remind myself not to do it again.”
Mary was shocked, but said, “Hmmm, Jennifer, Paula and Monica. I am very disappointed and saddened by your behavior. However since you are addicted to sex, I guess it does happen and I guess 3 times is not that bad considering your problem.”
John thanked her for being so understanding. They hugged and made their peace.
A little while later Mary asked John, so why do you have all that money in the box?
John answered; “Well, whenever the box filled up with empty cans, I took them to the recycling center and redeemed them for cash”
Alabama is a fat guy with a goatee, wearing a camo jacket and a trucker hat. Despite his drunkenness and outwards appearance of being a racist redneck, he is actually pretty nice to everyone at the bar. He’s drinking a can of Budweiser.
Alaska and Nebraska would just be 20 drinks in before even showing up to the bar.
Arizona is the bouncer, kicking Mexicans out who are trying to get in from the bar across the street. Ironically, he’s drinking Tecate.
Arkansas is drinking straight whiskey and asking people if they want to arm wrestle to prove how manly they are.
California is constantly buying drinks for others, yet has failing kidneys from lack of hydration.
Colorado is a beautiful, perfectly athletic couple wearing all Patagonia, drinking craft beer talking about their last mountaineering trip, with an air of aloofness.
Connecticut is a rich white woman sipping a martini and silently judging all the other states.
Delaware is that guy who hangs around the outside of the New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland and New Jersey friend-circle, taking occasional sips from his Yuengling and mostly being ignored, except when New York has to go past him to get to the bar.
Florida is drinking moonshine while riding an alligator through the orange groves to the local Publix.
Georgia will be drinking bud light, wearing a UGA trucker hat, tortoise Costa Del Mar sunglasses with croakies, solid colored Polo shirt, questionably short shorts with a UGA belt, and driving a Z71 with a Browning decal in their rear window (even though he only went hunting twice, in Jr High) and a UGA license plate frame. He went to Valdosta State University, and he works in his dad’s local business.
Hawaii is alone in a corner of the bar, away from the other states, drinking a cocktail from a coconut.
Idaho is drinking Keystone Light and pretending they are part of the South.
Illinois is a larger gentleman, eating deep dish pizza and drinking a Goose Island. He’s reminiscing about the ’85 Bears and how “this is the Cubs year”.
Indiana is in line for the toilet, drinking a Budweiser or a Coors, checking out the ladies and thinking about how bullshit it is that you can’t buy alcohol on Sunday.
Iowa is sitting next to Illinois, just trying to have someone pay attention to him.
Kansas is dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans and clean boots. He’s friendly enough and even buys a round to get the party started. After a few drinks, it’s obvious he feels sorry for Oklahoma, hates Missouri, and is hung up on Colorado. After striking out with California, him and Wisconsin get hammered drunk and sing Country Boy.
Kentucky would be drinking bourbon and arguing with anybody who will listen about college basketball.
Louisiana is celebrating that lack of open container laws by standing outside of the bar with an Abita Amber or a Sazerac and looking disdainfully at the drinking abilities of all of the other states. “Amateurs.”
Maine is wearing an L.L. Bean flannel and drinking Allen’s Coffee Brandy
Maryland is drinking a Chesapeake margarita. Rim lined with Old Bay. He is insisting that everyone try his drink because it’s really good if you just give it a chance, but no one else seems to get it.
Massachusetts is in a bar fight with New York over sports.
Michigan is drinking some micro brew and playing Euchre while trying to conjure up nice things to say about Detroit.
Minnesota is a pleasant guy drinking Summit Extra Pale Ale and will happily buy you one. He’s hanging out with his obnoxious brother-in-law North Dakota even though he doesn’t want to but he’s too nice to tell them to bug off.
Mississippi is just looking to start a fight with Alabama about who’s less redneck.
Missouri is in a drunken argument with Kansas about who gets custody of their strange in-between child – Kansas City.
Montana has to be two different people. Eastern Montana is a cowboy drinking Budweiser and gets into a fight with Wyoming over sheep vs. cattle, but this happens every week and they make up afterwards. Western Montana, on the other hand, is a hipster/hippie throwback with dreadlocks who drinks craft beer or PBR and absolutely reeks of marijuana.
Nevada is a sketchy, middle-aged balding man chain-smoking cigarettes he pulls from his black leather jacket, rolling dice on the bar counter top and drinking whiskey, straight up.
New Hampshire is a skinny, nerdy white guy in a collared shirt and khakis, who also carried in signs for his favorite political candidate. He’s drinking craft beer and getting into philosophical and political discussions with Vermont and Maine, but is open to talk to everyone. He is quick to tell everyone he loves himself, and humbly without arrogance.
New Jersey is a man of Italian/Mediterranean descent wearing a wifebeater and track pants. He’s downing jagerbombs and giving people the finger.
New Mexico is the quirky but good-natured one who is getting a bit too wasted with whatever shots the other states buy them because they can’t afford it.
New York is an Italian businessman, wearing an expensive suit, with a perfect haircut and slicked back hair. He is talking down to New Jersey, like a father talking to a son, and he’s drinking scotch.
North Carolina is an attractive, bubbly blonde girl of average height with a smoky accent, who’s just graduated from UNC and has taken a job teaching young kids. She is hanging out with South Carolina and Virginia, and she isn’t drinking anything because she just found out she’s pregnant.
Ohio is an incredibly average white guy, that’s not out of shape but not in good shape either. He has his sports hat on of his favorite Ohio sports team and is drinking good beer but nothing fancy. He has a family and works in an office. He can’t stop talking about how much he hates himself, but doesn’t leave due to his ties there, and would miss his friends if he left.
Oklahoma is an obese couple who have not moved from there spots since sitting down next to Texas. They have on sweatpants, and brought in fast food to eat at the bar. They are drinking Bud Light bottles.
Oregon is the hipster drinking the eclectic craft microbrew that nobody’s even heard of.
Pennsylvania is a cheery, pretty brunette girl with blue eyes, dressed fairly preppy. She’s drinking Yuengling and making out with a handful of other states.
Rhode Island is drinking Narragansett pounders and is sitting on phone books on its barstool.
South Carolina is an overly drunk guy in his mid-twenties, wearing preppy pastel clothes, a sports jacket, and pants with little boats embroidered on them. He is talking about what he is going to do with his family’s old money to anyone who listens. He’s drinking an Old Fashioned.
South Dakota is an older, in-shape man with long, straight black hair tied in a pony tail. He looks vaguely Native American and sits at the bar carving various little statuettes out of soapstone. He’s wearing a worn leather biker vest and has a colt .45 at his hip, but despite his rough appearance many of his neighbors like Minnesota and Wyoming come over to talk to him and seem to get along quite well, often admiring his handiwork. Other states however don’t seem to notice him much, passing him by without a second thought.
Tennessee is drinking Jack Daniels, and watching Nascar.
Texas is singing karaoke about how great Texas is.
Utah is the designated driver, sipping on water and making sure nobody gets too crazy.
Vermont is a guy who brought in his own craft beer from his hometown in Vermont, and stubbornly refuses to try any other beer, but is pretty much friendly to everyone.
Virginia is drinking some local craft beer that their friend made at their brewery. They will only talk about all of the fancy craft beer they have drank while complaining about traffic.
Washington is a pale girl, very quiet and reluctant to be friendly to anyone except Oregon. She has glasses and a couple books, and isn’t drinking because she’s enjoying a cup of coffee she got from her favorite place on the way here. She loves hiking with her boyfriend and watching indie movies and documentaries on Netflix. She suddenly yells at New Jersey for throwing a napkin on the floor and not in the correct recycling bin.
West Virginia is downin’ enough bud light to float a battleship, and talking nostalgically of the days when copper prices were higher.
Wisconsin is drinking New Glarus while eating cheese curds, and is probably about 5-6 beers ahead of everyone else.
Wyoming would be on the roof with a rifle, muttering conspiracy theories about black helicopters.
Bonus… Puerto Rico is standing outside staring through the window, wishing it could join the party.
Bonus #2… Washington D.C. is the bartender since it’s not a state but is essential for the whole thing to keep running. Plus everyone loves it when they need something and hates it when they don’t.