As posted by Lilu: ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!
(Make sure you check out Lilu’s TMI Thursday archives, to read some of the funniest stories you never wanted to hear.)
Well, since last week I managed to mortify my recent self with a period story, I decided this week to take a stab at a much younger, much more naive version of myself.
The summer after fourth grade, my parents decided to let me go visit some family in New Mexico for a couple of weeks to celebrate my tenth birthday. When we arrived at the airport, I remember telling my parents that my stomach hurt. My mom assured me that I was just having “first flight jitters,” and that as soon as I got there I would feel just fine.
Was she ever wrong! I remember feeling like complete butt (the 9 yr old me wouldn’t have said “I feel like shit or ass”) for the first few days. All I wanted to do was curl up on the bed in pain, and I had no idea why I was dying inside. Why had I thought it was a good idea to go on vacation without my parents?
I tried really hard to act as if everything was ok. I forced myself to go on bike rides and to join in games of football, even though it felt like someone was jabbing a pogo-stick up my hoo-ha. I was with my boy cousins and was going through a bit of a tom-boy stage, I didn’t want them to think I was a prissy girl.
About two days after I got there, I was crouched over on the toilet in pain. After I managed to squeeze a little pee out, and I wiped (front to back, just as I was taught.) Then, just as any other normal human does, I took a looksy at the toilet paper before I dropped it in the pot. I remember a feeling of dread passing through my body, even when I first saw it.
Fuck me sideways! (I would have actually said something more along the lines of Holy uh-oh Batman! )
There was totally poop coming out of my pee pee hole!!
I checked several times to make sure I hadn’t mistakenly number two-ed a little bit. Nope, the back end was clean as a whistle.
I may have been young, but I knew something wasn’t right. I also knew there was some sort of connection between the feeling that my uterus was trying to jump out of my vagina, and the fact that my vajayjay was having a horrible case of diarrhea.
Over the next few days, it only got worse. Every time I went to the restroom, I would see the dreaded brown poop spots in my panties. I was in a state of panic. I didn’t want anyone to find out that I was plagued with something that made poop come out the wrong hole, so I denied my strange behavior, stating that I was just home-sick.
Every time I went to the restroom, I would remove my soiled panties, crumple them up into a tight wad, and tuck them into the large pocket on the front of my suitcase.
At the ripe age of (nearly) ten years old, I began spending a good portion of my day excavating my private areas, searching for a reason why in God’s name this could be happening to me. This may have been the beginning of my current recently conquered state of hypochondria, but I began to obsess over what kind of disease would cause my vagina to doo doo.
After a few days, things returned back to normal and I was able to actually enjoy my birthday.
A month later I was back at school, having a grand ole time- when it came back. Once again, I was in fear of dying, but mostly I was scared that someone would discover that I was a freak of nature.
For the next few months every time my symptoms would return, I would carefully tuck my dirty underwear away into my suitcase to ensure no one would accidentally come across them. I took to folding up toilet paper and and putting it in the crotch of my underwear to yield some of the damage. I never let on to my friends or family that I was probably dying from a poopie vagina. It wasn’t until around Thanksgiving when my family was getting to ready to go out of town again, that the truth finally came out.
When my mother approached me carrying my suitcase in one hand, and an armload of panties in the other- I immediately burst into tears.
“MOMMMMMYY !!! I’m so sorrry!!! I’m so sorry!!!! I’m dyyy-sob-ing!!!”
She hugged me and tried to calm me down. When I was finally composed enough to talk, she asked me why I thought I was dying.
“I poop out my peepee hole…. not all the time… I didn’t want to tell you…”
My mother smiled and gave me a huge hug while I stood there confused.
mom:“Honey, you’re not dying, and that’s not poop. You’ve just become a woman! You’ve started your period!”
And this, my friends, is why I am a huge advocate of sex-education in Elementary School. Do your kids a favor, tell them about the birds and the bees before they convince themselves that they crap out their pee-holes.