Why Are Periods Still So Embarrassing?
Today was the day of all days. I started my trillionth period, or so it felt. I went to the restroom, just to… you know… handle my business? Once my body stopped spewing waste through its natural process, I proceeded to wipe my twat clean. To my surprise, there she was, shedding from the inner layers of my love button; Mother Nature. As vibrantly red as she could be, arriving every month at any time she felt convenient, just to remind me that I am not pregnant (as if I could be). With all her glory, politely tearing my insides apart as she flows down my slit onto my panties. No matter how many times she has paid me a visit, I continuously feel the utmost amount of embarrassment, equivalent to my first visit. Now I started to become distressed. With my undies and jeans wrapped tightly around my ankles, I began to question my next move. Conveniently, I was in a restroom that contained a sink to my left. As I stared violently at my cunt, I told her, “Melinda, we are going to take off these bottom layers and walk to the sink to clean the panties that protect you. I swear on everything, if you drip blood on this floor or on my leg, you will not be receiving pleasure for a week, so be a good little girl and do as you're told.” Once we agreed, I slowly removed my shoes, then each pant leg slid off my bare feet, and finally my drenched panties slipped off as carefully as can be. I walked to the sink, soaked my panties with cold water and soap, and vigorously rubbed both sides of my panties together to remove the socially stigmatized blood that my inner loins created (without my want, permission, or control). I began to wonder, how will I now clog my hole to prevent more blood from escaping? I walked back to the john and rapidly put my clothes back on, in hopes that when I walked back into my last class, I would have some form of Mother Nature protection. As I desperately searched my bag, it became evident that I did not have any protection for this unexpected visit. I only had two choices. One, I go back to the bathroom and stuff an enormous amount of toilet paper in my trim, in hope that it will clog my hole long enough to provide protection. Second, share my embarrassing, current experience with another female by asking for a tampon. I went with the second option, as stuffing my twat with toilet paper like a turkey on Thanksgiving wasn’t appealing. I looked over to my classmate next to me and asked her for a tampon. She glanced over to me and secretly handed me a tampon under the classroom table, so no other student would notice. I nervously hid the tampon in my back pocket prior to racing out of the classroom to the restroom. I was able to confidently fill Melinda with the protection she deserves when Mother Nature occurs.