For an explanation of my NaBloPoMo theme, click here.
My Internet connection was down all weekend. And so I have failed at my first NaBloPoMo. Bah. But luckily for you, that means that you get 3 stories today – and they are kind of like a theme! A theme of horrible oversharing-ness about girly things, but a theme nonetheless. Also, I know that these are totally cliche, but since I have not gotten around to submitting them to that page in Cosmo… Enjoy, duckies!
NaBloPoMo #10 – It was obviously not red ink, and that’s not even a good lie.
Every girl has an embarrassing story about getting her period, right? I mean, it’s practically a requirement. So here’s mine.
I was in 8th grade (middle school) and I think I was in history class. And you know, at that age you haven’t really thought to ‘time’ when you’re due for the monthly visit from Aunt Flo. (God I hate that phrase.) So I was sitting in class, la la la, doing whatever you do when you’re bored in history class, and then the teacher gave back papers. I got up to go get mine, and when I went back to my seat, I noticed that it was smeared with red. Eek!
I think we were doing some kind of activity next (I don’t remember exactly) so I went up to the teacher and told her that I needed to go to the bathroom, while being about as awkward as a human being can be since I was trying to keep my back to the wall. I went to the bathroom and it was… bad, as I’m sure you can imagine. Even worse, I had no, ahem, provisions, and no way to fix the fact that my jeans were a complete mess.
So I went back to the classroom and asked me teacher to help me. She came out into the hall and I told her that I must have sat in some red ink that was on my seat and now I needed help. It was not a good lie – not at all – but I could not bring myself to tell the truth and that teacher, bless her heart, pretended that she believed me. She gave me a quarter (for the tampon machine in the bathroom) saying, “just in case you happen to need anything” AND her sweatshirt to wear around her waist for the rest of the day.
I am not sure to this day if anyone else noticed what had happened; I imagine they would had to be blind not to notice something as I was walking up to the front of the room to get that paper. No one ever said anything, but my face burned every time I walked down that row to my seat in that history class.
Before this incident I would have said that I hated that teacher and her history class, but afterwards, I was nothing but grateful to her for being kind to a gawky teenager. I know that this could have been a LOT worse, but I still remember it as being one of my most embarrassing moments.
NaBloPoMo #11 – In which my life was saved with a pair of pantyhose.
As part of a history class that I took during my senior year of high school, we went on a trip to Washington DC. On one of the days that we were there, we had to dress up. (I think it was because we were going to observe the Senate or something like that.) I remember that we were kind of rushed in the morning leaving our hotel, but a little while later as we were walking down the street, I realized that something was wrong.
Yes, friends, the red tide had come. (Do you like these euphemisms? I’ve got about a million of them.) Since I was wearing a skirt, I was understandably nervous about, um, drippage, I guess you could say. So I asked one of the female chaperons if we could stop at a bathroom any time soon. She arranged a stop somewhere (a train station, I think??) and I rushed to access the damage.
Yikes. There was no way to salvage my undergarments.
And this is where we explore exactly what friends are for, because Liz, dear sweet Liz, found a place nearby that sold pantyhose. It is because of her that I was not forced to go totally commando on our jaunt through the nation’s capitol. Three cheers for Liz! And for cheap pantyhose sold in random convenience stores!
NaBloPoMo #12 – Wounded
The first semester of my sophomore year in college, I had finished my last final and was in the kitchen of my apartment making lunch. I was exhausted, having gotten about 3 hours of sleep in the last week or so, and was looking forward to some delicious Kraft macaroni and cheese and then a restful slumber. Alas, it was not to be.
While I waited for my lunch to congeal, I washed some of the dishes that were in the sink. One of the glasses had something in the bottom of it, so I stuck my hand in to get it out. And I know now that you are not supposed to do this, because if the glass breaks it will cut you, but clearly I did not know it at the time, because when I stuck my hand in the glass broke and cut me.
There was a rather shocking amount of blood in the sink, and the hand towel that I grabbed was soaked through pretty quickly, but when my roommate asked me if I needed any help I told her no, that I would be fine. (In fairness, she was leaving to go to a final exam of her own, and it would suck to miss a final exam because your roommate is an idiot who sliced her hand open.) So I called the BU medical clinic and they told me to come in and they could take a look at it.
When I got there, I tried to convince them that I didn’t need stitches – no dice. The lady took one look at my hand minus the hand towel and told me that stitches were not optional, and that I also needed x-rays to see if there was glass in my wound. She sent me off in a cab to the hospital where I waited for several hours before being called in.
At this point I was feeling pretty low, because I was exhausted, and by myself, and injured, and damn if it wasn’t just one big pity party until the hottest doctor in the entire world walked in. Seriously, he would make McDreamy look like dog food. So at least I had some eye candy as I got x-rayed, and had glass removed from my hand, and had several giant shots of novacaine, and many stitches, and then more stitches when my hand wouldn’t stop bleeding.
Once he was done with the second set of stitches, he bandaged me up and then told me he wanted me to wait 10 minutes so that he could check and make sure the bleeding had stopped. I used this time to go to the bathroom, and during my bathroom visit I changed my ‘lady protection’. Well, I guess it is hard to do this when you have a big ass bandage on your hand, because when I walked out of the bathroom and went to wash my hands (the sink was in the little hospital stitching room) I noticed a giant red smear on the bandage… and it wasn’t from my hand.
Horrified, I pondered what to do (rip off the bandage and throw away the evidence?) but before I could act the hot doctor came back in. He frowned and said that he was concerned that my hand was bleeding through the bandage, and in a moment of great humiliation I confessed what had happened. And while yes, I know that Dr. McDreamy-Squared was not going to proclaim his undying love for me no matter what happened, and that he was a doctor and was probably not phased by anything… it was still awful, and I blushed the entire time that he re-bandaged me. Now why, I ask, have they never had that story line on Gray’s Anatomy??