Women’s Health Education Hub - Everyday Wellness Journal Facebook ad: “Must Read If You Still Use Disposable Pads”

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904937959098972

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1

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"Reusable pads for incontinence? That sounds disgusting." That's what I said when my sister first mentioned them. That was before I spent another $50 on disposables that lasted three days and gave me another rash. My sister called me in April. Said she'd found something for bladder leaks. I said "I'm already using pads." She said "I know. How's that going?" I didn't answer right away. Because "how's that going" was a complicated question. I was spending $50-60 every two weeks on Always Discreet. They leaked after a few hours. They made my skin burn and itch. The smell was worse than the leaks sometimes. But they were what was available. So I kept buying them. My sister said "I switched to reusable pads three months ago." I said "Reusable? Like cloth?" She said "Yeah. 100% cotton. Made for incontinence." I said "That sounds disgusting." She was quiet for a second. Then she said "You know what's actually disgusting? Sitting in a wet plastic pad for four hours because you can't change it yet. Developing rashes that hurt so bad you can't sleep. Spending $100 a month on pads that don't even work." She had a point. But I said "I don't want to deal with washing them." She said "It takes five minutes once a week. You're already doing laundry anyway." I said "I'll think about it." I didn't think about it. I kept buying disposables. Two weeks later I was at CVS buying another package. $54 for a box that would last maybe four days. Got home. Opened the package. Put one on. Within three hours my skin was burning. That chemical feeling. That plastic-trapped-heat feeling. I took it off. Looked in the mirror. New rash starting. Same place as always. Called my dermatologist the next day. She prescribed steroid cream. Again. That night I was putting the cream on the rash and thought: I'm using medical intervention to treat damage caused by the product that's supposed to help me. I called my sister. "Okay. Tell me about the reusable pads." She sent me the link. I looked at the reviews. Saw one that said: "I tried those mesh incontinence underwear from Facebook ads. Spent $80 on three pairs. They don't let you change when you need to—you're stuck in wet underwear until you get home. Returned them. These pads you can actually change. Night and day difference." That was good to know. I'd been seeing those underwear ads. Almost ordered them. Kept reading reviews. Another one: "I was going through a package of Poise every four days. That's $400 a month. These cost me $90 once. Eight months later, still using the same set. Also, I'm not putting 100+ disposable pads in a landfill every month anymore." I hadn't thought about that. About how much waste I was generating. Fifty pads every two weeks. That's 1,300 pads a year. All going to a landfill. Taking 500 years to decompose. For 70 years I'd been relatively conscious about waste. Recycled. Composted. Brought reusable bags to the grocery store. But I was sending 1,300 plastic pads to the landfill every year and hadn't let myself think about it. I ordered them. They came two days later. I opened the package. Pulled one out. It was thick. Cotton. Soft. I held it for a minute just looking at it. My first thought was still "I'm supposed to wash these?" My second thought was "but I wash my underwear. Why is this different?" I tried one the next morning. Put it on. Snapped it into my underwear. It felt... substantial. Secure. Went about my day. Grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning. Changed it once at lunch. Quick change. Rinsed it. Put it in a mesh bag I'd bought for laundry. Put on a fresh one. That night I had worn two pads total. Both were in the mesh bag ready to wash. Compared to the four disposable pads I would have gone through. Four pads I would have wrapped in toilet paper and put in the trash. Four more pieces of plastic heading to a landfill. I washed them with my regular laundry two days later. Took them out. They were clean. Dry. Ready to use again. I thought: that was it? That was the whole big disgusting thing I was avoiding? It's been four months now. I haven't bought disposable pads once. My skin cleared up in a week. No more rashes. No more steroid cream. I'm not spending $100-120 a month anymore. I spent $90 once. And I'm not generating 100+ pieces of waste every month. That actually feels good. My friend Carol asked what I'd switched to. She'd seen me at the store not buying pads for the first time in years. I told her. She made the same face I did. "Reusable? That sounds..." I said "Disgusting? Yeah, I said the same thing. Then I did the math on how much I was spending on disposables that gave me rashes. And how much plastic I was throwing away. And how often I was sitting in wet pads because I couldn't change them yet." She said "How disgusting is the washing really?" I said "You rinse them when you change them. Then throw them in a mesh bag. Wash them with your regular laundry. That's it." She said "That's it?" I said "That's it." She ordered them that night. Texted me three days later: "I just went a full day without my skin burning. First time in months. Why did I wait?" The pads are called Veloura. 100% cotton. Thick enough to actually work. Soft enough to not destroy your skin. They snap in and stay there. When you need to change one, you can. In any bathroom. Thirty seconds. Rinse it. Mesh bag. Done. Wash them once a week with regular laundry. Five minutes of effort. In exchange: no more rashes, no more $100 monthly spending, no more plastic waste, no more sitting in wet pads waiting until you "should" change. I was wrong when I said reusable sounded disgusting. What's actually disgusting is spending $1,200 a year on plastic pads that burn your skin and fill landfills. This is just... laundry. UPDATE: Carol went camping with her grandkids last weekend. First time in three years. She said: "Brought enough pads for three days. Rinsed them in the campground bathroom sink. Hung them to dry. Worked perfectly. Also felt good not generating trash at a state park." They're called Veloura Pads. 100% cotton. Thick enough to handle real leaks but soft on sensitive skin. Order them online. Right now they have a limited-time deal where they'll match however many pads you buy and send them for free. Someone asked about the washing. Rinse when you change them. Put in a mesh laundry bag. Wash with regular clothes. Dry with regular clothes. That's the whole process. Someone else asked about those mesh underwear from Facebook. Multiple people have said they don't work—you can't change them when you need to, you're just stuck in wet underwear. Pads let you actually change and feel fresh. Environmental note: Average woman uses 1,000-1,500 disposable pads per year for incontinence. Each takes 500 years to decompose. One set of reusables eliminates all that waste. To every woman who thinks reusable sounds disgusting... sitting in chemical-soaked plastic that burns your skin while spending $100 monthly is what's actually disgusting. This is just smarter.

Where the ad sends people

velourapads.com

Must Read If You Still Use Disposable Pads👆

Veloura