So, I ran into walmart today. I had to purchase some false eyelashes to put on my seven year old cousin, just to practice my techniques.

I was wearing a gray mini skirt and a hot pink spaghetti strap top and luckily…underwear.

I say luckily underwear because…well you’ll see…

I was looking for the false lashes, thinking to myself “How am I going to tell Lance that I think that I’m pregnant? I mean…I don’t think he’ll be mad, and he’ll definitely want me to keep it. Wht the hell am I going to do? Sue the guy who manufactured my birth control?”

I grab my false lashes and mosey (mosie? mosy?) over to the arts and crafts and I feel this warm wetness between my legs….

It felt like I was getting turned on, that sort of slow wetness you know?

I knew it wasn’t my period, because every month since I first got it when I was eleven it’s been the same, I get cramp for 5-7 days before, horrible cramps. I get super moody, I cry a lot, and ooooo the cramps.

So I look around, no one is in site, so I sneak my finger up my skirt, under my white cotton thong, feel definite gooey warmth, and pull my finger out, in front of my face and voila…

Blood.

Lot’s of it.

At this moment I drop my false lashes onto the nearest shelf (which I hate to do, because I have worked in customer service, and people being too lazy to put their shit away pisses me off too). I start walked briskly out the door to my car.

Mind you I’m wearing a mini skirt, so all I can see in my mind is blood slowly dripping down my legs for all to see.

It didn’t, but you know how paranoia can trick you, and I could have sworn I could feel it going down my thigh.

So I get in my car, and I still have a ton of clothes piled in there from moving, so I find a gray sweater that I hated anyway, put it on my seat, hiked up my skirt, and drove home.

My poor white cotton thong ends up in the trash, and I’m thanking the Big Man that my skirt isn’t ruined and that I didn’t run into any old friends from highschool who wanted to chat.  

Well, Lance and I had a huuuuge, nasty, sweaty fuck fest on Tuesday. I was supposed to get my period on like….it doesn’t matter, sooo…yeah. I have too many friends who got knocked up while they were on the pill. Which explains the pregnancy scare.

I think that was God’s little way of saying “Hah, that’s what you get, now here’s your period in a very public place, I hope you learned your lesson. P.S. Stop yelling my name while you’re orgasming”

Thought you guys would enjoy another embarrassing story after my suicide scare. Letting you all know I’m good now.

That’s the downside of being bipolar, extreme lows, but I’ll deal.

Thank you all for you wonderful comments! Mwah!

-Shelby

 

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