Jade • Devon, UK • 32
My secondary school years were filled with memories tinged with embarrassment: pulling my school jumper far over my bottom to hide pads the size of warships, confused about pains and shying away from PE, wanting to leave class last because of leaking onto chairs. I knew nothing and didn’t want to ask about what was happening to me. I was a hormonal ball of shame with a lack of acceptance.
My first period arrived wretchedly during my first-year German trip, 30 minutes into a 17-hour bus journey. Too embarrassed to tell a teacher, I layered up tissue which would run out halfway through the journey.
My friend lent me her jumper to tie around my waist as I had on unforgiving beige cargo trousers (I promise they were fashionable, but you can guess what happened).
I spent the whole week (my first away from home and out of the country) sleeping on a towel, scared to wear shorts on the hot sunny days, and praying that there were toilets on day trips. It wasn’t a healthy way to manage a period, but I could not bring myself to ask help from an adult. I want to give that little girl a cuddle!
