Backseat Exhibitionist

Technically, if you take into account the events of yesterday, I'm, well,... an exhibitionist. I guess.

Disclaimer: Lots and lots of T.M.I coming up. You've been forewarned.

So, I keep very minimal track of my periods. By minimal, I pretty much mean none. I'm always a little bit surprised when the four weeks I get to enjoy of bloody-massacred-free underwear is up, and the time for tampon positioning and Midol popping begins. That being said, I'm almost always equipped with some form of menstrual-flow-stopping-device, partially due to my complete dismissal of keeping records in the period department.

Well, yesterday was an exception. I took a drive down to Connecticut with my sister and a female friend. All went well until we were 30 minutes into our 3 hr. drive home. At which point, to my utter dismay, Mother Nature reminded me of my gender's downside.

Tell-tale signs of beginning a period revealed themselves- lower back pain, weird secretions- you get the point. Anyway. I was at a complete loss. The girlie items I usually carry with me, including very vital tampons, were nowhere to be found. And, to make matters worse, the two people I was on my trip with, didn't have any on them either. So, what's a girl to do, you wonder? Hit up the nearest gas station, get propositioned for sex (it happened), avoid eye contact with creepy truck drivers, locate tampons, and drop the cash, STAT. Mission accomplished.

But. And this is a big but (No pun intended, honestly). I had nowhere to apply said tampons. The gas station restroom contained an excessive amount of fecal matter, and my posh spice taste was not having any of that. My sister kindly drove her car to a spot that was far from the bright lights of the gas station, but I was much too shy to get lower-body-naked there. So, I insisted, and I really mean insisted, that she drive down some shady, pitch black road, and allow that I drop drawers in peace. She obliged, although in retrospect, I really wish she hadn't.

If this post wasn't enough T.M.I for you, I trust that the upcoming section should suffice.

I now found myself in the backseat of an empty Corolla, of which, my sister and our friend eagerly vacated. Although they missed out on quite the show, a wide-eyed boy of about fifteen, was not as unlucky. Now, just do your best to imagine the scenario I describe. Picture me. On my knees. Doing a pretty bad job at squeezing into the gap that separates the backseat from the passenger seat. I nervously tear the bag of tampons open. I say nervously because it was about 1 in the morning at this point. I had just forced my sister and companion #2 out of the vehicle, and onto the side of a road, inhabited by wildlife and small-town killers. The latter, I'm not too sure of, but I'm the type to fear humans more than animals. Anyway. I'm almost done with the task that I set out to complete, when my attention is momentarily stunted by an oncoming pick-up truck, flashing extremely bright blinders (The street wasn't illuminated by lights because we were quite literally in the middle of nowhere).

Obviously, I turn my head to the left because bright objects distract me, and notice a young teen hanging his head out of the passenger window, mouth agape. I wasn't able to catch a glimpse of my face in any of the Corolla's five mirrors, but I'd bet my life's savings that it became tomato red. I'm not entirely sure that he really saw much of anything, considering how low on the car floor I had been, but who knows. Sister and friend returned to the car, bloody massacre in the pants was contained, and my flushed face gradually resumed mortal flesh tones.

Lesson learned: Always,always carry feminine hygiene products on a daily basis. Although, I doubt I'll be charting when to expect my monthly visitor anytime soon. Hey, I take baby steps.