I was thinking that part of my ‘new way of thinking”
prompted by yesterday’s post
should involve me confronting some of my
Whenever I say this term I always pronounce it
personal ISSEWS – I don’t know why.
I just do!
embarrassment is a greater motivator
It is paralysing!
So here goes . . . .
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Embarrassing Moment #1
When I was 15,
I unexpectedly got a gig as a replacement nanny
for a VERY wealthy family,
from Boxing Day to the second week of January
They were so affluent
that the father/husband regularly featured on the BRW Rich List
I was to accompany them on their giant cruiser
and look after their youngest three children
(three girls 6 + 4 +2)
for the three weeks.
I was housed in a suite at the Rottnest Lodge,
while the parents slept overnight on the boat.
(actually it was usually only the Mum,
as the Dad really didn’t do ‘parent duties’),
meet me in the morning at the suite
then we would chuff off to the Lodge’s restaurant for breakfast.
So I spent a few days staying in the suite,
looking after the kids,
doing the daily chores of keeping the children occupied,
while fitting in with the needs of the parents.
On about the fourth day day,
I got my period.
Now I was a VERY naive 15 year old.
– no boyfriend
– never been kissed
– didn’t do drugs or booze
– wasn’t a gossip or party animal
– never snuck out to ‘do’ anything
– had NO idea what a tampon was OR how to use one !!!
Now the Mum didn’t come over for breakfast that day,
but at midday
she did show up to take the girls for a swim in the hotel pool
and then to have lunch.
Did I mention that I had my period
that I didn’t know how to use a tampon?!?
She also brought a girlfriend
who was in her 40’s,
and had a stunning teal green
that looked fabulous
on her trim & taught body!!!!
I was too embarrassed to tell the Mum that I had my period,
I just put on my bathers,
prayed for a miracle,
and went swimming in the Lodge pool.
Now please don’t get all judgemental
about me haemorrhaging all through a communal pool .
I was 15, scared and just doing my best to cope – badly, obviously.
There were NO mishaps in the pool.
I couldn’t believe it.
But then the Mum wanted to go straight to the restaurant to have lunch,
after just wrapping ourselves in towels.
The hotel towels.
The WHITE hotel towels!!!
I had NO idea what to do.
I was too timid to say anything.
I was in the presence of two EXTREMELY wealthy
and worldly women,
one of whom was sparkling in a bikini like nobod’s business!
So I sat in silence and kept praying.
After about an hour of fruitlessly trying to feed the 2 year old,
who we later found out
(at 2am when I had to clean her projectile vomit from the crib, bedding, carpet, walls and child)
was having an allergic reaction to formula milk,
we finally got up to head back to our suite.
I tried my best to hide my towel,
– yep you guessed it –
now had a scarlett stain smack in the middle of it.
I VERY carefully positioned it
to hide the telltale red ink
while also draping the clean ends over my hip
and covering my rear
to contend with any possible ‘leaks’.
did I manage to pull it off?
Bundling up the towel that was screaming
“teenage girl with her period, right here people!”,
the youngest crying child on my hip
and cajoling the other two girls to follow me
I set forth to amuse the gods.
I got out of the Lodge restaurant,
and managed not to fall down the stairs.
I made it past the pool
(which is located directly outside the restaurant)
and got past a stack of arriving lunch guests . . . .
. . . . only to have to stop in front of a couple of guests **
who were lounging in banana chairs on the far end of the pool,
as precious daughter No. 2
was chucking a tantrum.
** Their eye line was
– you guessed it –
right at that level!
Now I was SUPER careful not to show my back to these guests,
as I knew that a ‘leak’ would be more obvious.
I wasn’t at all confident that
that the towel was still doing it’s job,
of masking any show-and-tells.
I bargained with the 4y.o.to follow me again,
managed NOT to drop the two year old,
kept the six year old with me as well
didn’t lose the precious towel
and made it all the way back to our suite.
Where . . .
. . . . I quickly deposited the children in front of the tv,
so I could FINALLY go have a shower on deal with my bloody issue.
I stripped off my bathers and found no tell-tale stains on the back.
Oh my god,
what utter relief!
Did I do it?
Did I manage to avoid the utterly dreadful fate of
displaying my young ‘womanhood’ to the elite world
of the Rottnest Lodge clientele?
Well did I?
Not a fucking chance.
As I hopped into the shower,
I looked down
at the top of my legs and down the front of my thighs
was the smudged
but all too visible
evidence of the dreaded ‘curse’.
I had made the biggest effort
to hide any perceived hint
of my predicament
from the rear,
only to have my situation declared loud and clear
from the front.
So there you have it.
Easily my MOST embarrassing moment
written for all to laugh at,
for me to be rid of.
Does it make you feel better to
compare it to your worst
most embarrassing moment?
It’s out in the universe now.