I was looking through my old journals from Junior High, for some details about, well, when I “became a woman,” as my mother would put it. I discovered that my journals are nearly impossible for me to read now without a.) cringing at my naivete and stupidity, b.) being amazed that I used to write like an 8th grader, and c.) wondering why the hell I wrote about such trivial shit when I could have written about important things, like switching from pads to tampons.
Gentlemen, you’ll want to skip the rest of this entry. Really. It’s for “women” only.
…Still with me, ladies? Good.
Anyway, what sparked my trip down Amnesia Lane was this: I ran out of crammers (tampons), and was too lazy to drive to Kroger and get some for this month’s festivities. I still had some pads left (although I ended up misjudging and will need to get supplies tomorrow, anyway), so I figured I’d just go old-school this month. After all, it’s been literally *years* since I went an entire period without at least one day of crammers.
I remember that, when I was 12 years old and I was faced with the decision of pads vs. tampons, I made what I felt was a proper and moral choice not to stick anything up my cooch until I was a little more experienced with this bleeding-from-the-crotch thing. I opted to wait a year before trying tampons, just because they were kind of daunting to me at the time. Looking back, this decision wasn’t nearly as important as I had thought, and just prolonged the greater probability of having embarrassing and gross “accidents.”
Today was my heavy day. I thought I knew what my heavy days were all about, you know, having done this cycle thing for nigh on 17 years now. But OMG.
I mean, Oh. My. God.
I remember a friend from church telling us Young Women about why she used tampons (this being before I switched). She told us that she couldn’t stand sitting in class and feeling that drip… drip… drip constantly.
Drip? Are you kidding? At least twice today I dropped a goddamned golf ball into my drawers! I felt like some sort of contortionist air-traffic controller, trying to aim the flow of things without being obvious about it. *squish*
Never a-fucking-gain am I going to let my heavy day be crammer-less. Maybe it was good for my crotch to let it all hang out this month, as it were, but good god. That just took me back to fucking junior high school all over again.
(My apologies if you were grossed out by all that. But I do feel better, having said it.)