A FUNNY STORY THAT WAS UNFUNNY AT THE TIME

I bleed I will tell you a funny story that was unfunny at the time. Actually, I will tell you two similar stories set in my teenage years. First story, I went to Koblenz at fourteen on a school trip,where I started my first period. I was not near a chemist, and was too ashamed to ask a female teacher for a sanitary towel. I ended up using toilet paper to blot the blood. Sheets and sheets of it did not entirely stem the flow onto my trousers and bed sheets. I spent the week fearful, ashamed and silent. Why didn’t I ask a teacher for a towel? Why was all that shame welling up within me? Was I ashamed I was a woman? Was I shamed by a society that are disgusted by bleeding women? I had read the book ‘carrie’ when I was eleven, and the shower chapter terrorised me. Second story, a year later I was in Spain, and again the bleeding started during a foreign holiday. This time I was with my family, but again I mentioned the blood to no-one. Why did I not tell my mother? Instead, once again I resorted to stuff ING my pants with layers of toilet roll. What happened next was pure comedy. The minute I left the beach toilet the sheet of roll unravelled and fell down between my legs. Thankfully, only my mother noticed on a crowded beach. I quickly pushed the offending paper back into my underwear without any public humiliation. No damage done. I tell you all the above because both stories are linked by a shame so strong that it silenced me. Shame of my body, and shame of being seen as dirty. Women live under the cloud of shame. Shame of a natural process. A shame painfully depicted in Carrie.

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