End of story. Period.

So you know how I feel about raising girls.

Sometimes they suck.

I mean, my three are all 6 and under, and at least one of them is in a constant state of this:

We haven’t even reached that phase yet.

You know…

The period phase.

Yesterday I was talking to a friend who has a girl nearing this wonderful stage of  being a female.

Being one myself, I thought I pretty much knew everything.

You know, in the period department.

But I was wrong.

Apparently when you get boobs now, you have sprouted your buds.

And you should expect to receive your monthly visitor approximately 2 years after your buds arrive.

So anyway, my friend’s daughter is a swimmer, and a little on the anxious side, so she’s not sure how to address the whole issue of ramming a tam up in her unit when that magical time arrives.

Which reminded me of the first time I got my period.

I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for me to tell you this story.

Today is your lucky day.

When I was little, there was no girls’ softball.

You just played t-ball and little league with the boys.

Which I did.

But by the time I got to middle school and seventh grade, there was  a girls’ softball team.

I was really excited to play.

Our first game was a home game right after school, so I had to stay after school that day.

It was the perftect day for me to get my

First.

Period.

Ever.

Right around lunch time I went to the bathroom, pulled down my pants to pee and…

What the?

Oh. Shit.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I did not want to go to the nurse.

I mean, I knew the nurse.

Like knew, knew the nurse.

Like I went to preschool with her son and I had been to her house for playdates.

Fuck!

But none of my friends had gotten their period yet, and there was no way I was missing my first softball game, so I was going to have to go see her.

I confided in my best friend and dragged her to the nurse’s office with me.

We stood there in the doorway like a couple of idiots.

“You tell her,” I said.

“I’m not telling her. YOU tell her,” said my friend, giving me a little shove.

My face was on fire.

Mrs. B went over to a cabinet, opened the door, and said,

“I think you might be looking for these.”

There were about ten million pads in there.

And they all appeared to be size XXXXL.

They were fucking HUGE.

At least that afternoon I didn’t have to put on a softball uniform which contained the world’s tightest pair of pants.

Ever.

Oh wait. Yes I did.

But I had no choice.

So I played my first softball game feeling pretty much like this.

I think I played the whole game with one hand in my glove and the other hand covering my ass.

Not exactly how I had envisioned it.

Knowing how things typically go with Number 4, there’s a good chance her first experience will be just as memorable.

 

Back at Number 1! Thank you!

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