Charlie: A grammatically correct Diva

First of all- 173 baby!!! Whooo-hoo! That gives me a 65 pound loss so far, and still going. It’s a miracle. And proves once again that yes, the ark of promise is my booty. (Thanks for loving that, Hill. It was my favorite analogy too!) OK, onto the gross, ridiculous and funny.


Recently it has come to my attention that there are still many readers who posses a Y chromosome. It shocks, surprises and amuses me greatly.


In light of that recent discovery, I am posting a disclaimer.


Boys: this is not a post for you. Cause I’m gonna talk about cycles. The kind you all freak out about. The kind that women are totally over having. The kind we all know are coming once a month yet still, after all these years act surprised that we get them. Therefore…You have been warned. Get out. Get out while you can. There are words ahead that you will never forget.


Ok, girls. (And the morbidly curious fellas who can’t take a hint) I got grammatically correct the other day when I found my period. I was doing math, and things weren’t adding up.

Finally, it came.


Before I tell you the story about how it came, I am going to tell you about a product I am trying with total commitment this month. A Diva Cup. Ladies, if you are even slightly squeamish, this is not for you. But if you can handle something that is the equivalent of a diaphragm and a tampon rolled into one, you might be just fine with it. A friend of mine had ordered one, and after going to the OBGYN she was told that it wasn’t the best option for her. So she passed the (unused) Diva Cup to me. It’s kind of a hassle, but I am saving money on tampons this month by using this gory snowcone cup of menses, so I’m willing to give it a shot. It’s taken a few months for the Cup to feel comfortable and normal, so this week I am trying it for the duration. The yucky part is you have to keep washing it out. And you see stuff in a new way. After 20 years of periods, this is an eye opening experience for me. I’ll let you know how it goes, and I’ll even make a link to the Diva Cup site, so you can see exactly what I am talking about.


Now, onto how the period at the end of my sentence for being a woman came to be this month.


Like I said, the numbers weren’t adding up, and I was late. Later than I like to be. My usual sign (threatening to pummel anyone who crossed my path) came early last week, but it seemed to be a no flow situation. I carried pads and tampons in my purse, waiting for the great flood of the red sea, but it never came. So I was a bit panicky. I’m terrified I will go into early menopause or something and find out I can’t bear more kids. Because of this neurosis, (and hoping that my tubes will magically grow back together and I will have a miracle baby) I watch my cycle like a hawk.


On Monday night, which is our walking group night, I decided it was a nice evening, so I walked to the mall. Which means no purse. Just my fanny pack with essentials. Because I wasn’t seeing any signs of the eminent, I didn’t think to slip a pad in the fanny pack, plus I needed room for my adorable pink hat from Walgreens for the walk home. Vanity, vanity.


So I hoofed the 2.7 miles to the mall, then walked our usual 2.5 with the gals. We chatted and prattled on and had a good time. It was fantastic. And then it was time to leave.


Lee Ann was going to walk home with me from the mall, because it was late, and we don’t like inviting trouble late at night, so there is saftey in numbers. We stopped in Sears for a quick potty break. This was the conversation from under the stalls.

Charlie: DANG IT!!! NO! WHY RIGHT NOW???

Lee Ann: Uh-oh. What happened? Did you start?

Charlie: YES!!!! DANG IT!!!! DANG IT!!!!!!!!!

Lee Ann: Do you have anything? Cause I sure don’t have stuff on me.

Charlie: Yeah, I think I’ll be ok. I’m covered.

Lee Ann: OK. Good. Poor thing.


See, I had on one of those carefree light days liners, the ones that smell like powder, because I get swampy results from sweat down there, and don’t want to have a funky odor. So I figured that liner would be enough to last me till I could get home in an hour after the walk back.


How wrong I was. With every step, I could feel that the little liner was not build to absorb what my body was throwing at it. I adjusted as we walked when cars weren’t coming, and I didn’t care if Lee Ann saw me digging at my crotch, trying to move that 5 inches of insurance forwards or back, hoping to maneuver it to an unused spot so I wouldn’t have a disaster in my drawers.


Finally, I got to the spot where I drop Lee Ann off at her street, and I continue on alone for a couple of blocks. All I could think about was getting home.


Of course, right about that time, I ran into the stray dog.


I have a fear of dogs. I mentioned that a long time ago, but it is worth re-telling. I'm terrified of dogs. Not to mention I see those shows on Animal Planet called “I survived” about animal attacks. In fact, Matt and I had just watched one the night before about a cougar (or some kind of big cat) that attacked a woman because it was attracted to the smell of her cycle. And we had joked about the little bit from the movie “Anchorman” when they are talking about bears, and they said that bears would come into the office and attack when a woman was on her period. (It’s a hilarious stretch of dialogue and one of our favorite movies. We watch it like once a month and can quote the entire movie)


Back to the stray dog. All I could think about as this dog looked at me from across the street was “It can smell my period!!!” and I was frozen to the ground. I couldn’t move. No, that’s not true. I had my hands down my pants, trying frantically somehow to revive the fresh powder sent from my dying pantyliner to disguise the smell that the animal kingdom can pick up from a mile away.

The dog started barking. AT ME. And I panicked some more. Breathe, Charlie, breathe. But I couldn’t. I just stood there and prayed “GOD!!! Please don’t let me get attacked by this dog because I didn’t pack pads in my fanny pack! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”


As the dog started across the street (and I think it was a Rottweiler or a Great Dane. Maybe a spaniel or terrier, but in the dark of night, whatever it was- it looked HUGE) I really started to freak out. About the time it had walked slowly and menacingly across half the street, a few cars started to drive by. They began honking and one yelled out “Hey, get that dog on a leash, lady! It’s gonna get hit!” I yelled back “It’s not my dog! HIT IT!!!!” Not my most humane moment, but I really thought this dog was gonna eat me alive.


Finally 2 cars later, a woman seemed to understand my plight. (Maybe not the dog smelling my period part, but that I was scared of the dog.) So she started backing the dog away WITH HER CAR by driving close and honking until the dog ran off. I could have kissed whoever she was for rescuing me. I moved on quickly after thanking her with a hand wave and jogged the rest of the way home.


When I got back, I told Matt the story, and he laughed because I was acting so overdramatic about it. But I really was convinced it was because of my period. I have never had a problem before tonight, and I start my cycle and the hounds come running. He said that I was overreacting. But he had a good laugh at my expense.


I think from now on. I will walk with a big stick in my hand. Everytime.

And ALWAYS.