Period anxiety is real. Recently my period has started skipping a day, leading me to falsely believe it’s finished. Only to emerge an entire 24 hours later for 24 hours. As if- designating underwear for the sole purpose of bloody destruction, hoping it appears at an appropriate time, praying you don’t stain someone else’s sheets with its stealth arrival, or worse bleed in public- isn’t enough. Yes please add period peek-a-boo to the bingo card (I’m being facetious).
Solution: panty liners, making me feel for all the people suffering from period poverty. I can afford the extra security, the only time I couldn’t was while dating Mick Jagger. A person who financially abused man remorse, wanting access to my main bank account to take everything.
Refusing to ask a single person for help, I relied solely on GOD. Budgeting whatever remaining money I had, by using paper towels when the last of my tampons ended. This was the only time I’ve experienced period poverty, under the trance of an abuser that Sebastian Stan broke me out of. Reflecting back I wouldn’t change a thing, I grew up privileged. Until that abusive relationship I was unaware sneakers were sold without insoles! Now all I see are a million things I’m going to help fix, period poverty being one of them. What if I didn’t have paper towels? There are people who don’t, having to skip school or work, sacrifices they shouldn’t be forced to make. Via: By Make Up Heaven