You Whore. Buy Your Own F##king Tampons?

I was 13 when mommy set me down to explain some important things about being a girl and how things would be when I got a little older. My oldest sister was 18, my middle sister was 16. I knew about tampons and the white string hanging out of my sisters and my mom occasionally.

The trouble started one Saturday as I was bored and also wanting to be grown up like Sarah, my best friend who had her period last week and was crowing about that fact to anybody who would listen to her. Riding the bus home that Wednesday got me depressed. Having to get a fresh roll of toilet paper from the linen closet, I spotted Diana’s box of tampons. She had this habit of ripping the top flaps of the box off and it was about ¾ full. There was an instruction sheet sticking up. ‘Tampax Pearl Usage directions.’ I locked the bathroom door and opened the folded sheet gently. I read it all. My fingers trembled as I picked one up. I unwrapped it from the stretchy plastic and was examining the shiny blue plastic object. I went back to the drawing and held it just like the woman in the drawing was. I put it down and slipped off my pants and panties and kicked them aside.

I used that one for practice and threw it in the toilet. Then I sat back on the pot and spread my legs open as wide as I could. I poked and pushed and tried a few more times when all at once the plunger pushed the tampon out into the water. It shocked me and I dropped the tube in as well. The next try had a similar result but it was fascinating how they looked in the water. Then I had a partial success. After it slid in, I figured that was it, and I pressed the plunger, but the Tampon was still halfway outside, so I pulled it out. I re-read the instructions and there was a part about lubricating it for easier insertion. That is when I grabbed the KY jelly. I knew what that was. 

Wow, it slid right in, all the way. I was a woman. I folded the instructions exactly like the original. Flushed away all the evidence and went off to play with Sarah. Yes, I told her, and I did not whisper. She called me a liar and I had to prove it to her by letting her look down my pants and see the string. 

Unfortunately, the story was far from over. Diana, who had a foul mouth screamed at Liz that day, “You whore. Buy your own F##king tampons”. They had a big fight that Mom had to break up. Mom even offered to give Diana some of hers. Eventually, after some rude gestures behind Mom’s back, things calmed down.

That night I had a really hard time getting it out before my bath. I almost had to get mom to help me, but I finally got it.

Sunday morning as we were getting ready for church, Diana screamed, “Dad the G.D. toilet is backing up again." He swore, “For Fu**k sake, you haven’t put any of that feminine hygiene crap down there again have you? I warned you the last time this happened. You go to church with your mother while I play plumber again. I got to get the snake from the basement.”