Tweet When I was growing up in the hellish halls of teen angst otherwise known as High School, I knew girls whose parents allowed them to stay home when they had their period. (Don't look at me like that - I warned you in the post title.) As in, spend the day on the couch enjoying the comforts of a hot water bottle and some Tylenol while watching Days of Our Lives. Followed by General Hospital. Which was on right before Donahue. When they came back to school they had a note relieving them from participating from gym class. What was wrong with these parents, buying into this obvious nonsense?
You know what I thought? FAKERS. Every. single. one. I had my period, too. It took three days from start to finish and I used maybe 5 tampons.
I never understood the whispers of the girls' voices from under the bathroom stall, "Oh my gawd! I can't believe I just got my period! Do you have a tampon? I don't have anything!" What do you mean you don't have anything? Are you seriously that cheap that you have to bum feminine products from your classmates? Of course you knew it was coming. It comes every 28 days. Mark it on a calendar! Also, I always got this pain in my leg the day before, so I always knew mine was coming. What was wrong with these girls?
I never cancelled plans, or stopped running, or bailed out of gym class, or stayed balled up on the couch - Fakers.
Until, ohmygoodnesswhathavetheseHORMONESdonetome? Was it the birth of Cletus? Is this menopause? Am I dying? Seriously, I must be dying.
Since Cletus has arrived Aunt Flo has been quite spontaneous at her arrival dates and times, and never with any warning. None. And so now I see (literally) how it's possible for that poor girl to have walked down the halls with that huge stain and I am so sorry I ever thought you were gross.
Did you know there's a standard business size tampon called Ultra? Yes. Ultra. Whatever happened to the reliability of Regular? And my trusted Lite? When the heck did I achieve Ultra status? And why?
And what's with these cramps? I don't know about you girls but I feel like I'm having contractions. Honest to God, the baby is coming, get me to the hospital because I'm going to have to push, contractions. I've given birth to three children and I'll take real labor pains any day. This is insane. I'm chowing down Midol and Pamprin like their jelly beans and they aren't helping.
In case I die, which I feel is a very real possibility, I would like to apologize to all those girls I judged so many years ago. I'm sorry I called you Fakers. I'm sorry I thought you were being coddled and spoiled because you were exaggerating. I'm sorry I doubted you. Most of all, I'm sorry you had to go through so many years of this. It's horrible and I can't believe you endured it month after horrendous month.
And if my girls need a note you can bet I'm writing one!