Olivia C • Colorado • 25
My first period was not very dramatic, but the moment that has always stuck with me happened freshman year of high school, 2008.
I went to a very adventurous school that had 3 week long+ camping trips a year, co-ed of course. We were on a bus from Denver, Colorado to somewhere far far away in Arizona. Classic story, the trip was scheduled when I was scheduled. Of course the bathroom breaks were limited so I tried to time everything accordingly, but it never works that way in high-school. We sat in what were probably seats that hosted tons of butts. Velvety, once bright blue now more of a brown.
This is when I noticed it, a feeling between my legs that made my stomach drop. A wet feeling. We had recently stopped so I knew it would be upwards of another hour and a half before we stopped again. I started to worry, what was I going to do? This is when I realized to avoid high-school embarrassment (the worst kind) I had to just be calm and handle it when we stopped again. As the spot on my hiking cargo green pants grew, I continued to try to talk to my crush. Finally we stopped.
I grabbed a sweater out of my bag, wrapped it around my waist and stood up. Noticing the spot I had left on the seat, I picked my backpack up and set it over it, walked to the packed bathroom with a line out the door and waited till I could fix it. Then it was my turn. Using my fair share of toilet paper, I soaked up what I could on my pants and underwear, changed the tampon and was ready to go.
Then I heard it: “jeez what are you doing in there Olivia? Pooping? HAHA OLIVIA IS POOPING!” Mortified, I came out of the stall and washed my hands and headed back to the bus. This is when I noticed the lovely lady from before still thought it would be fun to talk about how long I took (of course in front of the whole class). I went up to her and whispered in her ear “I got my period, I’m having a hard time right now.” Women are supposed to be there for each other. Help and lift each other up, not make them feel like things that they don’t have control of are their fault. Not this girl. Her response: “Ewwww why would you even tell me that.” Face flushed and cheeks becoming red all at the same time, I turned around and took my seat, quiet and defeated.
After this trip, my mom took me to the doctor who prescribed me birth control that lasted three months. When we realized it would be about $300 every time I needed a refill, we couldn’t afford it. This amazing lady doctor gave me “samples” every time I needed a refill to avoid the fee. Women do what they can for women in need.
