The Ugly Truth About Hotdogs

The other night on Twitter, one of the trending topics was #NameYourVaginaAfterAMovie....

I wanted to frantically update my Twitter with all the movies that came to mind, but I pussied out. I have no idea why I can use the word 'pussy' but can't use the proper term 'vagina.' Ew. I hate that word. Maybe it's because when I was a little girl my mom bought me a book called 'What's Happening To Me'  and every page had the word vagina on it. This book was her way of saying " Hey listen, I've noticed your B.O and the hair on your legs and I'm betting you have pubes...but....I would actually prefer to not talk to you about this."

When my mom casually passed the book off to me, I recall my little virgin eyes frantically blasting  through the pages so I could find some pics. I didn't for real read it. C'mon, I still giggle at naked photos. The pics were pretty graphic; meaning massive bushes and really low hanging ballsacks.
Who drew this shit? They forgot to include the stretch marks, varicose veins, saggy tits, nipple hair and cellulite. I think if you're gonna publish a book about how your body is gonna suck for the rest of your life, and you're gonna be a raging lunatic a few days a month, then at least make it accurate. And may I also mention that both breasts in the pics were perfect AND the same size. I'm at least a B in one breast and a C in the other.

Since I only looked at nudie pics in the book my mom bought me, I was very unprepared for the crime scene in my pants the first time I got my period. I swear, I must have been away the day they covered periods in class. I didn't go to school on Mondays for like 7 years in a row. (Any of my besties reading this blog right now can testify to that.)  I conveniently had a headache every monday until I was 16 and my mom never caught on.

I think every little girl remembers the day she became a psycho. entered into womanhood. For me, it was hotdog day at school.

All the mom's on the PTA would come to our school every Thursday and make us hotdogs to raise obesity rates eat for lunch. I'm pretty sure I ingested a lethal amount of nitrates and cow biproduct in elementary school but those were the times.

After digesting about 900 calories for lunch I went outside for recess. I remember walking around
(Yup, I walked, I never ran even as a kid. Nothings changed) And out of nowhere I got these earth shattering stomache pains and I quickly scurried inside to the washroom.

I pulled down my underwear, sat on the toilet and took one glance down to my Hanes and what a bloody mess I found.Instantaneously I thought:'OMG, somethings wrong with the hotdogs! There must have been razor blades in them that have cut my organs and my vagina on the way out.  Wait, what if I'm dying? Is this massive organ failure?'

That moment was probably the 3rd time in my life I decided to run. I ran like a gazelle to the principal's office and was greeted by our secretary Mrs. Gadsen.
Me: (leaning over her desk and whispering) "There is something wrong with the hot dogs."
Mrs. G: "What do you mean dear?"
Me: (leaning closer) "The hot dogs are making me bleed."
She stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.
Mrs G: "Amanda, I think I should call your mom."

I slowly walked toward the sick room as the cramps began to set in. At that point I didn't realize "hotdogs would ruin my life every 28 days for the next 40 years, so I sucked it up. Once I got closer to the sick room I discovered one of my classmates Davina was not well either. The moment I made eye contact with her, I knew I had an ally. I was right about the hot dog conspiracy. There were for sure razor blades in there. She knew it and I knew it. Either that or we both conveniently had organ failure on the same day.

When I got home that afternoon, my mom explained to me the ugly truth about what was really happening. I sat there in my diaper maxi pad, somewhat bewildered that this was now my life.

To soften the blow of the news, my mom suggested we go ice skating. Looking back, what was she thinking? The right thing to do would've been to sit me down with a bottle of Jack Daniels and light me a smoke. I was in for lifetime of misery and she was holding back. I agreed of course to the skating because at 11 you don't really have much of a fucking choice in anything. So I invited my bestie and off we went.

I don't remember much about the skating part, but I do vividly remember her taking us to Dunkin' Donuts after. I'm flashing back to sitting there and swivling in my chair trying to eat my chocolate glazed donut in peace, whilst trying to avoid eye contact with my mother. My mom was just sitting there staring at me and smiling. It was like I was some sort of zoo animal. Creepy.

The thoughts in my head at the moment went something like this:
"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I slap it off of you" And there it was. It was that moment I didn't know I'd been waiting for my whole 11 years on the planet. My first mood swing. Yesterday, I was playing with barbies and today...I was gonna fuck shit up.

Now when I think about it, Kathy Bates in Misery wasn't that bad of a person. It was just a movie about a misunderstood woman on her period. Right?

I could go on all day about the sheer misery of puberty and gorging blood from orfus's but I don't want to ruin the surprise when I rewrite  'What's Happening To Me?' I'm titling my book, 'What the Fuck is This Shit?' Stay tuned!

BTW-A few movies that came to mind to name my vagina after were: When Harry Met Sally, Misery, Lady and the Tramp, Miracle on 34th Street, Fame and Field of Dreams.

If you're reading this at your desk right now, I bet you're sitting there naming movies after your own vag. Don't lie. 

Peace out