Bad fucking ass bad day. Most of which I can’t tell you about because it’s about work. But this, this I will tell you. Because you could laugh. That is, if you can get past the gory details (Smerdy– avert your eyes!)
First, a question: Do you consider CD1 the day you spot just a little, or the day full flow descends?
So, I’m on my period. But the heaviest day is over, right? I should be safe wearing pale pale pale khaki pants, right? Besides, I haven’t had a public show of red since I was wearing white jeans in the 10th grade and thought that cold feeling was just my ass going numb, but really it was the cold wet feeling of a gigantic banner of blood blooming across my white, white jeans (and I was wearing a crop top, too) and then I proudly went sailing down the crowded hall at the end of the day, thinking I was all that in my white jeans, and my hot crop top and my side ponytail and that THAT folks, was why people were turning around to stare at me, and then when Cherie grabbed my arm and asked me if I had a sweater or something and I looked at her (in the middle of the crowded hall) with deep concern in my eyes and said, “No, honey, do you need one? I’m sure we can find one for you.” And she shoved me into the nearest restroom and then I saw IT. IT the gigantic red flag of my poor planning and the fact that I was either hemorrhaging out of my ass or profoundly not pregnant. And I spent 2 hours waiting for the school to clear and missed my bus home, because though Cherie was kind enough to get me off the hall, she wasn’t nice enough to track down any of my good friends (ie friends good enough to come to my rescue). And when I finally sidled my way down the hall to call my mom, she was just super irritated that I hadn’t just got on the bus and come home on time.
Today is not far from that.
Oh, it started out good. I wasn’t having to Martha Stewart it or anything. No, I was fine. I was prepared. And it’s not even my heaviest day. Then things at work got hectic and I, well, I forgot about it. No big deal. I have 2 layers of protection on. Everything’s cool. I decided that I needed a quick break. Yeah, I needed to eat something. I needed lunch. So I grabbed my Weight Watcher’s Smart Ones frozen entrée and headed to the kitchen. So, there I am, nuking it and one of my coworkers is asking me questions about Vera trying to decide if she would like to take Vera and when I turn back to the microwave, I feel it. A movement. A slippery, sliding, bloody kind of movement. And a spreading dampness. So I make my excuses, grab my entrée out of the microwave and walk quickly down the hall to my desk. I grab my little bag with my supplies and walk to the bathroom. And just as I turned down the hall and could see the door, I could also see it shut on someone else. Now I can feel the dampness spreading, and the slipperiness slipping. And I knew I was in trouble, because the only other bathroom is past A LOT of people. Many, many people.
I thought briefly about the conference rooms and a roll of paper towels. I thought briefly about hurling myself out of my 18th floor windows. Hey, a lot of people would see me, but the shameful blood would just blend in with the honorably-earned blood. My secret would be safe. I stood there for a moment while hot, bitter tears leaked out of my eyes. How DARE the BATHROOM be occupied! This is the forbidden bathroom. NO ONE is supposed to use that bathroom. Not even me! It’s for guests! There are no guests in the office today, therefore no one should be in that bathroom. Finally the door opened and the only other co-worker to sneak into the forbidden bathroom came out. I zipped in and turned to the mirror to see a rose demurely tucked into my crotch. Right out front, folks. Right out front. Pale Khaki pants. It’s 1990 all over again. And I have braces and bad hair and lethal awkwardness.
It just all happened so quickly. One clot. Slipping down and powering through all my defenses. There’s nothing I can do. I have no changes of pants here. I ride public transportation so I can’t get home and back in time with everything I need to do today. I don’t want to bother Kristin because I know that she’s super busy. So, I sit here, chafing and embarrassed, wearing my (long, thank God it’s long) black leather coat and telling everyone sweetly “Oh, I’m just freezing today” when they comment on it. They’ve all be kind enough not to ask why if I’m so cold I don’t turn the heater that’s sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME on.
I think they all know. I think they’re talking about it on their side of the office. I think I feel my hair frizzing from a bad perm as we speak.
I don’t know how I’m going to handle the bus ride home. Pray for me, people. Pray that I turn invisible and/or burst into flames right here at my desk.
*can you tell me where I got this from?