We've Got a Bleeder

Girls bleed.  This shouldn't be a surprise to anyone, unless you completely ignored every health class since third grade.  We bleed, some of us sooner than others and some of us more than others (depending on the time of the week).  If you're a late bloomer *raising hand* like myself, you're in a way fortunate.  It can be a hassle having your period depending on the circumstances and the environment, but it's also something important in terms of being a female and being able to have children someday.  It's like a special bond all women have with each other.  I find it perfectly acceptable for a girl stranger to come up to me and ask if I have a tampon, isn't it an unspoken rule to be generous about that?  The real issue arises when we don't have these options available; when you're surrounded by a group of dudes.  One of the most mortifying experiences of my life, and probably one of the reasons I'm so nonchalant when talking about my period now, was when I first started mine.  Like I said, I was pretty late and it was the summer before 10th grade year.  I'd tell all you jealous ladies  to envy my late start, but I'd much rather have an earlier start than have to experience what I went through my first time:  I was on a camping trip.  I was the oldest girl.  The only adults were my dad, and his three brothers, and my older male cousins and brothers.  We camp in seclusion; not a trailer park with rest rooms, not an area with other families, not somewhere with gentle older women searching for young girls who are FREAKING out about what their vagina is doing.  And did I mention we spend our days camping usually by going somewhere to swim?  If you're not expressing empathy you're not human, not a girl, or no longer my friend.

Exhibit A: The Camping Toilet

Upon initial discovery of what I like to call the Red Stream of Womanhood, I resorted to the only thing I could think of which I know some of us girls are still forced to do; stick a wad of toilet paper down there and face the day with confidence that the toilet paper is the double-strength sturdy brand.  UM, I could tell what I had wasn't.  I may have been better off putting leaves in my underwear.  So here I am waddling to my father, wide-eyed and mortified telling him I can't go swimming today.

Dad: "What do you mean you can't go swimming?  You love it and we're all going.  You have to."
Me:   "I can't.  I can't.  I can't.  Dad.  No."

I think father intuition kicked, if there is such a thing (which I now believe in).  Or maybe the awkward waddle paired with the paralyzed look of fear on my face gave it away.

Dad:  "Oh...Um...Do you need to go somewhere...Um..To get things?"

So Dad and I drove, in the most silent of fashions, to the tiniest neighborhood corner store that ever existed and I hopped out the car, ran in, and bought my first box of tampons.  Thank God for the included diagrams in the box because all memories of health class lessons were non-existant in my mind.

This story came to my head today because we were talking about Toxic Shock Syndrome in class, which can occur with the improper usage of tampons.  And some girl made a comment about how uncomfortable the boys probably were with the discussion.  I think it's hilarious/very stupid that boys don't like it when girls talk about their periods or think it's gross.  It happens to all of us, and you should love it, because that lovely stream means your girl is fertile and healthy, and you're actually more attracted to us anyways during that time of the month because of the hormones we release.  So I kind of make a point to talk about it, not obnoxiously, but just as a conversation and it's interesting to see who accepts it.  Go with the flow.

xxxx

A