Share This Article
When someone asks me my worst period horror story, I think ‘sure, which one do you want to hear?’ Maybe the time I bled out so much I needed a blood transfusion, or the day I leaked all over my grandma’s staircase, making her house look like a crime scene. While these are honourable mentions, the moment which truly takes the cake is when I didn’t have any pads at school.
Eleven-year-old me was still unaccustomed to all-things-menstruation so when my monthly cycle crept up on me again, I had no pads to dam the river. I turned to my friends, hoping they could hook me up. Much to my dismay, none of us were prepared. While I realise now that the school reception and pastoral offices offer menstruation products for students in need, then I was still a naive year seven who didn’t know any better. So, I hiked up my pants and held my head high as I decided to continue the day using only toilet paper as my saving grace. This morale lasted all of five minutes when I realised my next lesson was PE and we were doing the glorious cross country.
That’s right. I had to run the entire circumference of our Wembley stadium-sized field about three times without a pad. And I was a heavy bleeder. The worst part of this situation was not the fact I leaked but the fact the blood had congealed on the sides of my thighs. By the time I made it home and into the shower, the blood was so crusty that scrubbing it also scraped off a couple of layers of my skin.
For the next couple of weeks, I had the worst chafe in the history of chafes, and to this day I have scars reminding me to never ever leave my house without a pad.
Enjoyed this article? Read more here: My worst first kiss