Sara T • Manitoba, Canada • 31
I was the last one out of my friends who got my period. I felt like I was missing out on something. I prayed to the bloody period gods and low and behold, just a few weeks before my 15th birthday, there it was!
The thing is, I was sooooo shy. My mom and I didn't talk about stuff like this, there was no open dialogue so there was no way in hell I was asking her for a tampon or pad so I just started rummaging through her cupboards.
There they were, tucked in the bottom of the closet, a half gone package of pads! Success! Thinking back now, these were probably used when she gave birth to me by the worn look to the packaging. But I ran to the bathroom, opened it up, fumbled around the sticky backing and plopped it in my underwear.
As many of you may know, pads used after childbirth, they big. Really big. So on my almost 15 year old body, this thing went from the top of my butt crack, basically to my belly button! But regardless, it was all I had, so I marched on like the woman I now was. An uncomfortable woman, but a woman nonetheless.
Fast forward to the next night, when I was clearly a seasoned professional in this period pad game, I'm at a friend's house. A friend who was a boy. A boy that I liked.
We were sitting on the couch watching a movie, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. At one point I got up to use the washroom and this gigantic pad circa 1988 was not quiet. This boy turns to me and says, "what is that sound?"
"I don't know," and I quickly made my way for the toilet.
When I returned, I adjusted my walk but it didn't work. He says "there it is again! Sounds like a plastic bag!"
"Must be these pants" I say like Ron Burgundy trying to cover his erection in the pleats of his. Why jeans would make such a sound is beyond me but this was a believable statement to him and I vowed to never get up to go pee again for the rest of the night.