Then Boyfriend showed up for what was supposed to be a quick dinner break before I leave town for a few days. Instead he had to follow me to Forever 21 so I could buy new underwear. The girl in front of me at the counter kept changing her mind about her purchases, so I stepped up, waved the new panties in the cashier’s face and said, “I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.”

Then we had to go to the arcade to get quarters. Then back to my office bathroom because the wall dispenser carries the only feminine hygiene products in the whole mall.

Forty-five minutes into my supper break we still had no food, which sucked because I was pretty much out of iron and red blood cells and stuff by that point.

So, to catalog my basic survival needs:
Clothing — compromised.
Food — compromised.
Sleep — on the bathroom floor, the only suitable surface for someone who is gushing blood like a Civil War amputee. Compromised.

If I ever have a niece, I’m not going to throw her a party for her first period. I’m gonna throw her into the woods in late November and say, “Congratulations on becoming a woman. Hope ya live ’til morning.”

In fact, I’ve been eying some really cute boots. If I let you tell the Interwebs about my period will you buy them for me for Christmas? Yeah, I didn’t think so but it was worth a shot.