TMI Thursday: The M is for Menstruation

I really need to start keeping a running list of all the TMI stories I could put up here, because when it comes to Thursday morning, I seem to draw a big, boring blank. So, today’s is rather mild (in my opinion), but still pretty embarrassing.

Oh, and confession: I’ve slacked off and failed to give proper credit to the originator of this brilliant Thursday Theme, LiLu! She’s the one who started it, and she’s got some really gruesome TMI for you, if you think you can handle it.

I thought I had already done a period-related TMI, but it turns out my paptastrophe was the closest thing. So it is with great pleasure embarrassment that I bring you this inaugural Menstruation TMI. There will probably be more where this came from. Just a heads up.

A couple of years ago, I was dating a guy — let’s call him Burt. It was summer-time, and we were visiting his family in Riverside, which was, of course, HOT. That weekend, Burt’s little sister was playing in a soccer game, so we went to support her. (Burt actually went to scream at the refs and turn all shades of angry…he was really into it, apparently. But that’s beside the point.) I was wearing brown shorts and a tank, and sitting in one of the canvas lawn chairs his family had brought…and I was on the heaviest, crampiest day of my period. Ugh.

And, oh, did I mention that I hadn’t learned to use tampons yet? Yeah. So I was equipped with a super-heavy-overnight-holds-up-to-27-gallons pad, and I made the mistake of assuming I wouldn’t need another one until well after the game. Alas, my ovaries released more like 28.5 gallons that day.

Okay, okay, I exaggerate. Here’s the thing, though. When you’re sitting in a canvas chair, and it’s really freaking hot outside, and you’re wearing short shorts and a maxi-pad, you get kind of sweaty. And sometimes you sweat so much that you can’t really distinguish between the liquids in which you are sitting. AND sometimes when you’re all sweaty like that, you don’t even need to be bleeding 28.5 gallons; even a little can get REALLY messy.

So when I stood up at the end of the game (and, oh yeah, I sat and clenched the entire time in hopes that the flow would be moderately suppressed and fully contained), I wasn’t feeling particularly confident in that pad. But I also thought, If I’m lucky, it’s mostly sweat. I’m sure I’m fine. No worries. The chair looks clean.

And yeah, the chair was clean. But then I got into Burt’s car to head to the mall for lunch with his family (which included his grandparents), and I could feel the menstrual fluids gushing out after two hours of being forcefully prevented from going very far. Crap! I thought. This could get ugly.

And sure enough, it really did. We parked, and I got out of Burt’s car and noticed a melon-sized (like, a large melon) reddish spot right where I had been sitting. Fortunately (if ANYTHING about this incident can be considered fortunate), it was a combination of sweat AND blood, and therefore wasn’t solid red or really thick. It almost looked like it could’ve been spilled fruit punch. (I’m reaching, aren’t I?)

I knew Burt hadn’t noticed it, since he got out of the car first, and I was waaaaayy too embarrassed to say anything right then. So I lagged behind him a few feet and waited for his mom and sister to approach from where they had parked, and I grabbed his mom’s arm and whispered, “I, uh…I had a bit of a leakage, and I need to buy some fresh underwear and shorts.”

Talk. About. Awkward.

But she was super sweet and understanding, and she and Burt’s sister walked behind me (thank you JESUS for my dark brown shorts which prevented immediate obviousness!), and we headed to the nearest clothing store. I basically grabbed the first pair of underwear and shorts that were roughly my size, bought them and rushed to the bathroom to change. The shorts were high-waisted and the underwear were actually a tad too small, but whatever. They were clean.

And the worst part of this story?

I never told Burt. And the spot mysteriously disappeared after that weekend. I can only assume that his mom discreetly told him about it and he went to get it cleaned, but who knows? Maybe he saw it and gagged and vomited and then went to get it cleaned. Either way, he must’ve really liked me…