By this point, I’d been bleeding for more than three hours and soaked through more than 10 sanitary pads even when two were used together. I find it oddly hilarious that I hadn’t got a drop of blood on my jeans.
One of the nurses helped me put on a pair of disposable maternity-style briefs and on the end of the bed, I spotted the red and black silk and lace thong I’d bought specially from Ann Summers. Fat lot of good it’s done me, I thought.
I felt everything from panic and shock to amusement at everything that was unfolding. I ended up telling a nurse that I didn’t want my parents knowing I’d had sex because I wasn’t supposed to be having it.
I had my mother’s words ringing in my ears that I shouldn’t be having sex because it’s a taboo in our South Asian culture. We’re taught never to do it with anyone because it’s all boys – or men – want and once they get it, they leave.
