Girls who live together, menstruate together. And I guess girls who chat with each other online also menstruate together. I was talking to my cousin over Google Talk about yoga. I asked her why she hadn’t been going, she said she was on her period. Poor excuse. I have a class in about 20 minutes, so I change into my work out clothes in my office bathroom before class. As soon as I drop my pants to pee, I see a puddle of red on my underwear. Dang it. I’m going to be late since I have to go home first and get a tampon. As I’m driving home, my stomach starts to get diarrhea gurgles. Usually on the first day of my period, I get the shits. I have no time to take a dump. I grab the tampon, insert it, and drive to yoga. This is a horrible mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided yoga trumps taking a dump. There were a few moments in class where others could have mistaken my body sprawled out on the floor as resting in between poses. No. I was in pain. But I had too much pride to leave in the middle of class, so I pinched my bunghole shut and continued through an hour of class like a trooper (with a contorted gotta-poo face). Never again will I choose yoga over pooping.

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