Confession: Women have period panties.
Not the kind you bleed into on purpose (although those are cool, too), but the ones you remember buying and loving, which have now been stained by a leak. Completely ruined. And a sad reminder of what used to be.
Hilariously, period panties became a joke between my mom, sister and me when we were growing up. If I was in a foul mood for no particular reason I would blurt out that I had my “period panties” on, and we’d relax knowing my panic about the cheddar cheese running out was hormonal — not homicidal.
As most women would confess, panties aren’t the only thing compromised by a leak. So, I give you The Eulogies: farewells to three precious possessions that my period has seriously fucked up.
My Car Seat
You were my first car. A 1999 Volkswagen Beetle that I accidentally drove for over a week without an oil pan (whoops!). You were my blessed sanctuary for listening to Death Cab for Cutie too loudly while making out with my high school crush. Your light grey front seat took me to my first job interview. My first prom.
Until one night, my period betrayed you.
I was heading home when suddenly I had that familiar feeling. You know, the one when you realize your menses are pouring out of you at an unstoppable rate and your tampon is just sitting there drowning like “I tried! Save yourself!”
I attempted to cleanse you of The Stain with anything I could find in the garage (Mane ‘n Tail included). But there remained The Stain, staring me in the face for three long years… until the day I finally sold you.
“A coffee stain,” I lied.
$1 Million of Underwear (estimated value)
Pretty much every pair of panties I’ve owned up to using FLEX (shameless promotion) has been compromised. This loss is self-explanatory. I loved you all dearly. Your replacements are NOT YOU.
My sister and I had a pony named Vanity growing up. (Yes, we had an actual pony. And no, I didn’t have a super sweet 16 birthday party).
Vanity was a total goddess, but I didn’t exactly enjoy riding her. After my sister was done riding, what I really loved to do was to take all of her tack off and trot bareback into her stall. I would grab the bar above the door and swing off the back of her as she walked forward underneath me.
She was white. My period was red. It happened. Sorry, Austine.
Originally published at flexfits.com.