Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Gin squirmed, trying not to move too much but needing to move more than she was. Maybe if she shifted right? No. Left? No that was worse! She tried to slide forward in her seat and stretch a bit; maybe that would fix the problem.
“Gin, sit still!” her mom hissed. “It’s like you’ve got ants in your pants.”
“Sorry.”
Gin looked straight ahead and tried to focus on the pastor’s sermon but the pulling discomfort was not letting up. It was getting worse. She tried to cross her legs but that didn’t work. She tried crossing her legs the other side…
“Gin, what is wrong with you?” mum lowered her head, with a harsh whisper “Have you got a dirty bum?”
“No!” Gin said but was instantly hushed and tapped on the knee making her almost drop her Bible.
“Sit quietly, please.” her mum said and looked away.
“I need the toilet.” Gin announced and mum sighed, “Can’t you hold it?”
“No.” Gin stood up and shuffled along the pew in front of other parishioners, who tsked and pulled their feet in tightly against the bench as she got to the main aisle. She walked towards the back and noticed people looking up to watch her. Some of them made curious faces but soon they all began turning pages in their hymn books as the organ began to play. She walked faster towards the safety of the church toilets, pain in every step.
When she was in the stall with the lock slid in place, she relaxed but nearly cried while trying to free a pubic hair that had become stuck in the adhesive of her maxi pad. She’d not had her periods for long and this was becoming a regular torture. Maybe the magazines were right and mom was wrong; it’s not dirty to wear tampons. Look, even the church is okay with tampons; there’s a dispenser right here in the church toilets. 50¢ for freedom. If only she had 50¢.