Hi, everyone! After that long hiatus, I am finally feeling fantastic. Two weeks ago, I defended my master’s thesis. What a relief! That project has been impressively single-handedly sucking all the joy, time, and sanity out of my life for the past two years; and my vocabulary does not contain words of an appropriate level of intensity to exclaim how exuberant I feel to finally be rid of that curse and to at last have a degree to show for all my hard work. PhD is still a few years away, but that doesn’t make this milestone any less satisfying.
I have spent the past two weeks sowing out on the couch and binge-watching Orange is the New Black and New Girl. Glorious. Best vacation ever. Well hello again boredom, I forgot how wonderful you can be sometimes! You and me together forever, what do ya say?
Right now, I’m at a coffee shop because as fulfilling as it is to lie around drooling in my apartment with no accompanying guilt, it is refreshing to see the sun after prolonged periods of time. And to move.
I’ve been up to a few things over the past several months, the first being swim lessons! The campus recreational center offers adult swim lessons, and despite my classmates still being a decade younger than I am, I have been having a blast! Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, I leave all pride at the door and shamelessly grab a foam noodle and flippers before cautiously climbing down into the shallow end of the pool. My instructor has been awesome and gives each of us the individual instruction that we need. So far I’ve learned how to float on my back and how to “freestyle,” and last time we started learning the basics of treading water. Just to add to the juvenility of this situation, I’ve been fortunate that my period has been late this month because I have never in my life been able to insert a tampon. I’ve tried a thousand times but I always seem to hit a wall – a very painful wall – less than two inches in. Tonight is the last lesson of the summer, so imagine how disappointed I felt this morning when my period started.
Fuck. I really wanted to master treading water today.
I was about to call the pool office to inform them I’d be missing my swim lesson tonight, but I decided to try once again to get this tampon inside me. You’re 29 years old. 12-year-olds can do this. You can insert this tampon. You are a strong, independent, tampon-inserting woman. Take a deep breath; relax…
The next 37 minutes were spent contorting my body into all sorts of weird positions.
I’m a new woman. I wear tampons. Good-bye, pads! In fact, what am I going to do with all the ones I have? Is there a donation service for poor souls like the 10-minutes-ago-me who haven’t mastered the tampon struggle yet?
******************************************************************************
2.5 hours have passed since I wrote that last passage. Let me tell you what happened within that time frame… (I don’t ever mention blood in the rest of this passage but if you’re squeamish or just generally uncomfortable with period talk, you may want to skip this.)
I stood up from my seat in the coffee shop to take a tiny break from writing this blog and to go use the restroom. Sparing you the details, I immediately discovered that it was time to change my tampon. No biggie! I’m a pro now; I’m confident I can do this again. What I was not expecting was the immense amount of pain I felt when I first tried to pull the tampon out. Okay, relax. It probably hurts because it has expanded now. Just go slow. As much as I pulled, that tampon went nowhere, and each tug felt as painful as all my earlier attempts did to insert the stupid thing to begin with. Let’s try one leg on the toilet seat again. Oops, pants are in the way. Off they go! I tried pulling again and again to no avail. Now I’m standing in a public restroom, half-naked, with a tampon stuck inside me, and I hear knocking on the door. Great, there’s a line forming out there. “Just a minute!” COME ON, YOU STUPID THING. COME OUT. No luck. Okay, you’re stressing out. Your muscles are probably contracting, and there’s no way you’re going to get this horrible thing out of your body if you can’t relax. Just go home. I stuck a pad to my panties, put my clothes back on, and left.
Upon arriving home, I fled to the bathroom, stripped completely, and tried again. Same problem. After about 30 minutes of persistence, a variety of positions, intermittent wincing and sobbing, and consistent pain, I got the tampon down to the edge of my vaginal opening. I bent over to visually examine the situation before finding something quite unexpected. The source of my problem was a thin piece of skin – like a thick string – stuck around the tampon. At first I thought I must have been mistaken but the discomfort I then felt when touching that skin confirmed that it was in fact part of my body.
WTF?! Is this even possible?! What is wrong with me?!
I tried to push the tampon in a little and push the skin aside but it was too painful to continue. In a state of panic, I called my friend to tell her what was happening and to ask her if she had ever experienced this. She had not. We agreed I needed to call the medical clinic on campus immediately.
*Ring ring*
“Student Health Services, how may I help you?”
Me: “Hi… is there a gynecologist available? I need to talk to her; it’s an emergency.”
“We don’t have a specialist, but we have physicians who can handle such matters.”
Me: “Okay, can I speak to one?”
“The nurse is available; you can speak to her.”
Me: “Okay, great, thanks.”
“Hello, this is Sharla.”
Me: “Hi, um… I used a tampon for the first time today, and I can’t get it out. There seems to be a piece of skin that it’s stuck on.”
“Okay, well come right in, and a physician will get it out for you.”
Me: “Okay, the receptionist said there’s no gynecologist, but is there a female doctor I can see?”
“They’re all on vacation right now; we only have men here today.”
Oh Lord, my worst nightmare. A man is going to pull a tampon out of my body. I can’t handle this.
Me: “Okay… do I have to see one of them? Can you help me?” Lady, you have to help me! Have a soul!
“I can assist, but you’ll have to see one of the physicians.”
Me: *Embarrassingly uncontrollable sobbing* “Oh no… oh, this is awful. Can I get a referral to somewhere else in town?”
“We can do that, but you’ll have to pay for their services. It’s free if you come here. I’m so sorry this has happened to you. If you come here, we can help; we’ve taken out plenty of stuck tampons before, it’ll be okay.”
Me: “Okay… I guess I’ll come in. Oh, this is mortifying…”
“It’s going to be okay; tell me your name again. We’ll be expecting you.”
Me: “Okay, thank you for your help. I’ll be there soon.”
A male who I have never met before is going to remove my tampon. Is this actually happening? Or worse – the nice older male physician who I have established a professional relationship with is going to pull a tampon out of me. How can I ever look him in the eye again? No no, I can’t handle this. You’ve got to remove this thing yourself.
I took a deep breath, held it, clenched my teeth down, and pushed that tampon inward and to the side while I forced the skin to the other side. Success. “Oooohhhh, thank God… Oh, I did it.” I took a few moments to catch my breath again before texting my friend the joyous news.
“Haha, good for you! And make an appointment for a female gyno to get that checked out!”
Me: “Yeah, no kidding…”
I spent the next 30 minutes consulting my favorite physician: Google. He knows everything, never judges, cannot see my face, and is not a professional colleague. All wonderful qualities. According to Dr. Google and the online testimonials of women who had the exact same experience I just did, it appears I may have a “septate hymen.” According to medical websites, a septate hymen is when the thin hymenal membrane has a band of extra tissue in the middle that causes two small vaginal openings instead of one. In fact, apparently hymens come in all sorts of shapes, like unique and beautiful snowflakes! (Too enthusiastic?) Check out these hymens. Numbers 4 and 5 are septate hymens. (Thank you to the following blog for this graphic. Click to read about the different kinds of hymens in more detail. Vagina Owner's Manual)
I have spent the past two weeks sowing out on the couch and binge-watching Orange is the New Black and New Girl. Glorious. Best vacation ever. Well hello again boredom, I forgot how wonderful you can be sometimes! You and me together forever, what do ya say?
Right now, I’m at a coffee shop because as fulfilling as it is to lie around drooling in my apartment with no accompanying guilt, it is refreshing to see the sun after prolonged periods of time. And to move.
I’ve been up to a few things over the past several months, the first being swim lessons! The campus recreational center offers adult swim lessons, and despite my classmates still being a decade younger than I am, I have been having a blast! Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, I leave all pride at the door and shamelessly grab a foam noodle and flippers before cautiously climbing down into the shallow end of the pool. My instructor has been awesome and gives each of us the individual instruction that we need. So far I’ve learned how to float on my back and how to “freestyle,” and last time we started learning the basics of treading water. Just to add to the juvenility of this situation, I’ve been fortunate that my period has been late this month because I have never in my life been able to insert a tampon. I’ve tried a thousand times but I always seem to hit a wall – a very painful wall – less than two inches in. Tonight is the last lesson of the summer, so imagine how disappointed I felt this morning when my period started.
Fuck. I really wanted to master treading water today.
I was about to call the pool office to inform them I’d be missing my swim lesson tonight, but I decided to try once again to get this tampon inside me. You’re 29 years old. 12-year-olds can do this. You can insert this tampon. You are a strong, independent, tampon-inserting woman. Take a deep breath; relax…
The next 37 minutes were spent contorting my body into all sorts of weird positions.
- Lying down. Ow… ouch ouch ouch! Angle it upward – ouch. Downward – ow. To the side – AH!
- Lying down with legs in the air. Oh, God! Bend knees. Worse!
- Copying the girl on the Tampax instruction sheet with one foot on the floor and the other on the toilet seat. Kill me now.
- Sitting on toilet with one leg on sink and the other on the bathtub. Why is there a wall in my vagina?
- Place cosmetic mirror on floor and squat above it. Aaaaaa-gony! Squat with one leg while lifting other onto toilet seat. I should have been a gymnast.
- Desperately trying instruction sheet pose again. I got farther this time. It’s not hurting… Oh my god, the applicator is all the way in. I guess I’ll try to push the tampon all the way up inside now. Oh my gosh… oh my gosh! I can’t even feel it! IT’S IN!!! OH MY GOD!!! AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!! I DID IT!!!
I’m a new woman. I wear tampons. Good-bye, pads! In fact, what am I going to do with all the ones I have? Is there a donation service for poor souls like the 10-minutes-ago-me who haven’t mastered the tampon struggle yet?
******************************************************************************
2.5 hours have passed since I wrote that last passage. Let me tell you what happened within that time frame… (I don’t ever mention blood in the rest of this passage but if you’re squeamish or just generally uncomfortable with period talk, you may want to skip this.)
I stood up from my seat in the coffee shop to take a tiny break from writing this blog and to go use the restroom. Sparing you the details, I immediately discovered that it was time to change my tampon. No biggie! I’m a pro now; I’m confident I can do this again. What I was not expecting was the immense amount of pain I felt when I first tried to pull the tampon out. Okay, relax. It probably hurts because it has expanded now. Just go slow. As much as I pulled, that tampon went nowhere, and each tug felt as painful as all my earlier attempts did to insert the stupid thing to begin with. Let’s try one leg on the toilet seat again. Oops, pants are in the way. Off they go! I tried pulling again and again to no avail. Now I’m standing in a public restroom, half-naked, with a tampon stuck inside me, and I hear knocking on the door. Great, there’s a line forming out there. “Just a minute!” COME ON, YOU STUPID THING. COME OUT. No luck. Okay, you’re stressing out. Your muscles are probably contracting, and there’s no way you’re going to get this horrible thing out of your body if you can’t relax. Just go home. I stuck a pad to my panties, put my clothes back on, and left.
Upon arriving home, I fled to the bathroom, stripped completely, and tried again. Same problem. After about 30 minutes of persistence, a variety of positions, intermittent wincing and sobbing, and consistent pain, I got the tampon down to the edge of my vaginal opening. I bent over to visually examine the situation before finding something quite unexpected. The source of my problem was a thin piece of skin – like a thick string – stuck around the tampon. At first I thought I must have been mistaken but the discomfort I then felt when touching that skin confirmed that it was in fact part of my body.
WTF?! Is this even possible?! What is wrong with me?!
I tried to push the tampon in a little and push the skin aside but it was too painful to continue. In a state of panic, I called my friend to tell her what was happening and to ask her if she had ever experienced this. She had not. We agreed I needed to call the medical clinic on campus immediately.
*Ring ring*
“Student Health Services, how may I help you?”
Me: “Hi… is there a gynecologist available? I need to talk to her; it’s an emergency.”
“We don’t have a specialist, but we have physicians who can handle such matters.”
Me: “Okay, can I speak to one?”
“The nurse is available; you can speak to her.”
Me: “Okay, great, thanks.”
“Hello, this is Sharla.”
Me: “Hi, um… I used a tampon for the first time today, and I can’t get it out. There seems to be a piece of skin that it’s stuck on.”
“Okay, well come right in, and a physician will get it out for you.”
Me: “Okay, the receptionist said there’s no gynecologist, but is there a female doctor I can see?”
“They’re all on vacation right now; we only have men here today.”
Oh Lord, my worst nightmare. A man is going to pull a tampon out of my body. I can’t handle this.
Me: “Okay… do I have to see one of them? Can you help me?” Lady, you have to help me! Have a soul!
“I can assist, but you’ll have to see one of the physicians.”
Me: *Embarrassingly uncontrollable sobbing* “Oh no… oh, this is awful. Can I get a referral to somewhere else in town?”
“We can do that, but you’ll have to pay for their services. It’s free if you come here. I’m so sorry this has happened to you. If you come here, we can help; we’ve taken out plenty of stuck tampons before, it’ll be okay.”
Me: “Okay… I guess I’ll come in. Oh, this is mortifying…”
“It’s going to be okay; tell me your name again. We’ll be expecting you.”
Me: “Okay, thank you for your help. I’ll be there soon.”
A male who I have never met before is going to remove my tampon. Is this actually happening? Or worse – the nice older male physician who I have established a professional relationship with is going to pull a tampon out of me. How can I ever look him in the eye again? No no, I can’t handle this. You’ve got to remove this thing yourself.
I took a deep breath, held it, clenched my teeth down, and pushed that tampon inward and to the side while I forced the skin to the other side. Success. “Oooohhhh, thank God… Oh, I did it.” I took a few moments to catch my breath again before texting my friend the joyous news.
“Haha, good for you! And make an appointment for a female gyno to get that checked out!”
Me: “Yeah, no kidding…”
I spent the next 30 minutes consulting my favorite physician: Google. He knows everything, never judges, cannot see my face, and is not a professional colleague. All wonderful qualities. According to Dr. Google and the online testimonials of women who had the exact same experience I just did, it appears I may have a “septate hymen.” According to medical websites, a septate hymen is when the thin hymenal membrane has a band of extra tissue in the middle that causes two small vaginal openings instead of one. In fact, apparently hymens come in all sorts of shapes, like unique and beautiful snowflakes! (Too enthusiastic?) Check out these hymens. Numbers 4 and 5 are septate hymens. (Thank you to the following blog for this graphic. Click to read about the different kinds of hymens in more detail. Vagina Owner's Manual)
Apparently my septate hymen can be fixed with a quick outpatient surgical procedure, so that’ll be my next adventure when the lady doctors come back from their vacation. I must say, despite the trauma of this afternoon, I feel relieved to finally understand why I’ve never been able to insert tampons and to know that there’s a solution to my problem. And since I’ve always imagined penis insertion as an exponentially more painful experience than tampon insertion, I’m also relieved to discover that sex may not be quite as painful as I’ve anticipated. The future looks bright ahead! Although, it looks like I will be missing my swim lesson tonight after all. :(