When I take off my knickers in the art room the long blue coil of it tickles my thigh. Blast. Forgot to snip it short. I never just push the string inside myself because it could easily drop down again. Am I shy? No. I just feel it’s Too Much Information.
There is an image by writer Susan Sontag’s partner, photographer Annie Leibovitz, of a naked dancer bending to lace her ballet shoe, thus revealing her ‘secret’ – her tampon string. It is said to indicate her delicacy and vulnerability.
I finish pulling on my black tee-shirt dress and run to the Ladies with another tampon hidden in my fist. I yank out the current one, pull the plastic casing off the new one, bite through the string near the top and shove it in.
I’ll have to rummage to get it out.
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