Years ago, when I was in the midst of writing my book for teen girls called Cycle Savvy, I had an experience exactly like one of the principles that I was illuminatng in the book. But more on that in a sec.
Ask any person with a uterus, and they will tell you that we’ve all been there. Yes, folks, what I’m referring to is the requisite humiliation of the menstrual accident. But one day in my late 20s, I decided that I was done being mortified and resolved never again to melt into a puddle of utter humiliation whenever I had yet another accident involving my period. I vowed to change my attitude — have a paradigm shift, as it were. So from that day forth, any time I experienced an embarrassing female incident, be it menstrual, sexual, or otherwise, I welcomed it (yes welcomed it) as an opportunity to regale my friends with the sordid details of my most recent mishap. After all, we all know that humiliating incidents make for endless chortles in the re-telling.
And with that, I’ll leave you with one of my own experiences that I wrote about in Cycle Savvy, and one which I reminisced about this past weekend when I revisited the very site of the episode below for another concert.
I had recently attended an evening concert in a beautiful hall in downtown Seattle where everyone was wearing gorgeous outfits. During intermission, I ran to the women’s room to change my panty liner. I was in such a hurry to get back that my used pad slipped out of my hands and landed within a couple inches of the trendy stiletto shoes of the woman in the stall next to me. I was so mortified that I tried to discreetly slide my dainty little hand under the stall to retrieve it. Needless to say, I waited until I heard the click-clacking of her high heels leaving the bathroom before I came out.