Staying With You Periodically

(I’m fourteen in this story, and staying over at my dad’s house because it’s his weekend. Being an extremely clumsy person, and bookish to boot I’m not a fan of exercising though I do like being outside. My dad, on the other hand, is a health nut who is very buff and is trying to convince me to get off the couch where I’m curled up in pain, so I can come run uphill with him, which is his new passion.)

Dad: “Come on, [My Name], exercise is the fountain of youth!”

Me: “Dad, I’m on my period. I’m not running up hills with you.”

Dad: *in a tone of disbelief* “Every time I see you you’re on your period!”

Me: *already irate, I get angry instead of bursting into tears* “You see me every other week. I get this once a month. Therefore every other time you see me I will be BLEEDING into my underwear, trying not to vomit!”

(He started keeping extra pads at his house after that!)