Hey Peeps, Am back. Okay, so where to begin. First off–there is so much to respond to but I will do that later today. And oh my God– FLORIDA IS AS HOT AS SATAN’S BALLS IN JULY!!! We had to get here as we have sold our home here in Sarasota and need to move stuff out. Anyway, yesterday was my birthday and I mostly spent it in roadside toilets between South Carolina and here with a terminal case of the squirts. And barfed a couple of times. On the first day on the road I was feeling like shit, bloated, sore tits etc. but didn’t think I would actually get a period though and thought it was just due to all of the upheaval what with selling the Florida house etc. I don’t like change at all–ever. Virtuous me prepared healthy food for the road but maybe the cool packs weren’t enough after 12 hours as by the wee hours of day 2 I was seriously crapping for Canada. I’m talking gripping the seat, feet off the floor, rocket propelled shits.
But to make my day even better, yes, my birthday….I got my “lady bleed” (new term for me….keep reading) and didn’t have any jam rags……oh, I bought a box of vampire mice just the day before we left as I had period symptoms……. and left them on the kitchen counter back home. Idiot me. I seriously didn’t think I would actually get a period as haven’t had one in months AND AM 50 FUCKING 4–SO ENOUGH ALREADY. It’s funny, I was standing in line at the pharmacy thinking the girl probably thinks I’m buying them for my daughter as I’m way too old for these.
So anyway, here’s how my crimson wave adventure went…..
There I was with my Kev in the Deep South, barreling down I-95 through Georgia and Hell-bent for Florida, when I got my period. As we were stopping due to my squirts anyway at every roadside toilet I figured I would get some necessaries at the next gas station. Funnily, Kev finds any mention of ‘lady issues’ very unsettling but will happily gently calm and support me as I grip the dashboard in the throes of ass cramps trying not to shit my pants before the next roadside bathroom. This is a man that will race lights and sirens to an industrial accident, dislodge a severed arm from a machine, provide lifesaving care to the recent amputee but yet ask him to pick up tampons on the way home from work and he comes over all funny. About twenty years ago I added Tampax to a short grocery list that included cheese, milk, tea bags, green beans, bread and a red pepper….he came home with a bottle of Bourbon; he had drawn his line in the sand and I have kept mention of any lady related issues to a minimum.
Anyway, so the day before the trip I was out picking up bits and pieces like you do before a trip and bought a box of menthol infused tissues which I thought would A: keep the car smelling fresh….which by day two with me, Kev and the dog can get pretty rank and B: would meet our nasal needs as we both suffer allergies once we get south of Georgia as they are in full seasonal bloom and it hits us both hard. As such, and in desperate need, I discreetly grabbed a good dozen minty fresh tissues and stuffed them in my knickers until further more suitable measures could be undertaken.
At my request we pulled into the next gas hut and Kev began to fill the tank. I entered the store and combed each aisle under the watchful eye of the proprietress to no avail. Passing the hotdogs gently rolling on the hot bars under the heat lamps, and the slurpee machine offering 34 flavours, they had every possible creature in the form of jerky (dehydrated meat/salt) but no tampons. I was about to give up when I spotted them…..behind the counter. Between me and the peace of mind only another woman can understand was the biggest , and IIIIIIIIIIII mean biggest lady of African American persuasion I had ever seen. Big. Like 550lbs big. And yes, this actually happened….even I couldn’t make this shit up.
“SUGAR! CAN I HELP YOU WITH SOMTHIN’?” she drawled at full volume.
“Yes, um, I wondered if I could have, um, (vaguely pointing behind her) something of ,well, um, a lady’s nature?” I stammered with an accompanying fan-like flutter of my fingers in the region of my own deep south. Yes, I’m 54 and can’t ask for tampons.
Therein followed a long pause as she considered my request…. and then the light went on.
“YOU MEAN YOU BIN AND GOT YO LADY BLEED ON YO HOLIDAY?! WHATCHALL GO AN DONE THAT FO’? THAT IT AIN’T IT? YOU GOT YO LADY BLEED! WELL AIN’T THAT THE CUTEST THING I EVER DID HEAR—YOU WANT SOMETHIN’ OF A LAAAAADY NATURE. A FIRST I’M THINKIN’ HAIRSPRAY BUT THEN I THOUGHT ABOUT YOU WIGGLIN’ YALL’S FINGAS AND THOUGHT NO LASHEENA SHE TALKIN’ ABOUT HER LADY BLEED—JUST A SECON’…..(she turns towards the door behind and calls through the bead curtain) LABAYA………LABAAAAAYA………LA—A—BAAAAAAAYA!!!!!!!
(after a few long moments Labaya emerges through the beads…..well, mostly, and stops with some of the strands still draping on her shoulder…. and let’s just say Labaya was Lasheena’s even bigger sister.)
‘LABAYA, COME HERE AND MEET THIS CANADIAN LADY, I KNOWS YOU IS CANADIAN ‘CAUSE YOU IS SO DAMNED PO-LITE (turning to me) GO ON, TELL HER WHAT YOU AX ME.)
wtf? I think
“GO ON, TELL HER LIKE YOU AX ME FOR THE YOU KNOW AND DO THE FINGERS.”
At this juncture I must mention that my body heat had caused the menthol infused tissues to release their caustic oils and my undercarriage was beginning to feel as if I had douched with peppermint schnapps.
Desperate to end this journey into the Twilight Zone I humoured the gargantuan keeper of the tampons and offered a quiet “I asked your sister if she had anything of a lady’s nature.”
“DO THE FINGERS!!”
I did the fingers which launched over 1000lbs of female flesh into hysterical laughter.
Then LaBaya offered: ‘GIRL, YOU SHOULDDA BIN HERE BUT A HALF HOUR PAST. THIS NEW YORK GIRL, AND YOU KNOOOOOOWS WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAYS NEW YORK GIRL (I didn’t but smiled and nodded in the hope that a positive acknowledgment was the precious token required to persuade the keepers of the tampons to dispense the sacred grail), WELL SHE COMES IN BOOOOOLD AS A HOG ON APPLES (no idea) AND SAYS SHE WANTS SOME COMDONS (sic), AND SHE NEVER SO MUCH AS BLINKED MAY THE GRACIOUS LORD LOVE HER. SO I SAYS TO LASHEENA I SAYS ‘LASHEENA, IT’S THE 20TH CENTURY (clearly in shithole county Georgia) AND WOMENS IS THAY’S OWN BOSS AND AIN’T AFEARED OF AXIN’ FO NOTHIN’ AND THEN YOU COMES IN AND YOU’S ALL LIKE ‘THINGS OF A LAAAAAAAADY’S NATURE.”
Again, they are reduced to tears and laughter whilst fanning their fingers over their lady parts then each grasping the counter intermittently to catch their breath, each further offering numerous ‘OOOOOOOOOOOH MY SWEET SACRED LOOOOOOOORD.”
Aaaaaand then LaSheena remembers her sister’s camping trip.
“LABAYA, REMEMBER WHEN YOU WENTS CAMPIN’ AND YOU GOT YO LADY BLEED AND JOE PAUL, (turning to me and whispering) he was a white boy you know, GIVED YOU A ROLL OF, (at which point LaBaya delivered her sister an arm slap, so turning to me to continue, and under her breath as if mention of her sister’s monthly deserved appropriate discretion but my circumstance was suitable for broadcast such that the trucker at pump 74 could hear as he filled his rig with diesel)….. he done handed her a handful of paper towel and a roll of duct tape and said make do ‘cause there was no ways he was goin’ in to town for no lady gear….”
Okay then.
Aaaaaaand then LaBaya, feeling my life would not be complete without sharing how her grandmother dealt with her lady bleed, offered a mercifully briefish account of how back in the day (probably last month) they wrapped old cloth around Spanish Moss and cotton buds.
Alrighty then.
“SO WHATCHALL WANT THE INSIDE POKIES OR THE OUTSIDE BIGGIE CLOTHS…THESE ONES GOT WINGS?” (she offered whilst examining the box then holding it up and pointing out the wings).
“Cyanide if it’s not too much to ask” replied my inside voice silently just as my Kev came in wondering what was holding up the road trip.
‘IS THIS YO HUSBAND? OH WEEZ TALKIN’ ABOUT THINGS OF A LADY’S NATURE!!!! He left without question.
I finally got the requisite “lady gear”, retreated to the restroom, then return to the car, after receiving numerous “GOD BLESS YOU GIRL”(s) to find my Kev waiting patiently or rather too afraid to ask about the cause for the delay. So between an ass as red as a baboon’s–sore from all the wiping due to my turbo shits episode AND my fucking period plus still healing from the humiliation of having to actually ask a total stranger for lady gear I’m feeling a bit fragile. BUT have not had booze and am off now to the pool for a soak.
I’ll have a proper read of all of your news tonight and respond as I go. Love you chicks huge. No wait. I hugely love you chicks. No. Fuck–drop the huge and just know I love you. Fuck. Not demanding you lose weight. Love you the way you are and am off for a cup of tea to think of you and reset my goals. I can’t use the “but I had a shit birthday (HAHAHAHA–ACTUALLY HAD THE SHITS ON MY BIRTHDAY) and deserve a treat” line that was creeping into my logic. Tea and you will realign me.
Menstrually yours, Liz