I was a junior in high school at the time, spending my Saturday morning taking the dreaded SATs. The only thing keeping me in high spirits was the fact that prom was that night, which was destined to be a good time. So, I would alternate between reading questions, bubbling in answers, and waiting for the allotted time to run out for each section with as much joy as I could.
It was about halfway through the test-taking process when the instructor finally signaled for a restroom break. We were allowed five minutes for these breaks, and it just so happened that my classroom was the furthest away from restrooms. This meant that almost a third of my “break” was spent walking to and from the restroom.
I hurriedly scurried to the restroom and made my way into the closest stall that wasn’t already occupied. I locked my stall, preceded to pull down my bottoms, only to be greeted by a large red stain. I looked to see if any had gone through my pants, which none had, but there was still a problem. I had no tampons, no pads, and not even a quarter to buy some from the dispenser that were in all the female bathrooms.
I did what I could; I wadded a bunch of toilet paper and strategically placed it where there was already blood. I then did my business in the stall, washed my hands quickly and ran out of the bathroom without even drying them. I made my way to my designated seat, which might I add was at the very front of the classroom, and said a small prayer before we were allowed to start another section.
I could barely focus on the test, and I barely moved my position in the chair. Every move meant my impromptu pad could move, meaning I would bleed everywhere. Every break was spent with me trying to decide whether I should go to the restroom or remain still in my seat. I would choose the latter, as it seemed the safest option.
When the minutes finally ticked down to the end of the last section, I could barely contain my excitement. There was one obstacle left to conquer though, which was waiting for my mom to come and pick me up. I walked out of the classroom last, and constantly made sure there was no one behind me as I made my way outside.
I would call my mom, alerting her that not only was I done with the test, but that I had also gotten my period during the test. She would take what seemed like hours to arrive, before finally picking me up and taking me to our home. The good news is that I did not bleed through my pants, which I was very surprised of. The bad news is that I spent my junior prom constantly worrying about blood getting on my dress.