R & I attended convocation for our MBAs today. Mainly for our parent's sake, but nonetheless. We sat on white folding chairs on the floor of the arena sweating under our highly flammable gowns and hoods. Seventeen minutes before the start of the ceremony, R & I decide to switch seats so we could each sit closer to our group mates. I stand and straddle over, then feel a gush of warmth trail down my leg. PANIC. This is what I get for trying to cajole a regular maxi on semi thongish underwear.
I perch for a moment, then spring up and run to my purse, that sat in my mom's lap in the bleachers. I snatch it from her then tried to find a restroom. The cunty usher insists that I have to climb 3 flights of stairs (in Alaïas) to the main concourse. BLERGH! At this point I could feel something dripping down my left leg. Surely my lace black tights would reveal all. Why did I have to change out of the opaque ones?!?!?!?
I huff up the stadium stairs hoping no one is witnessing this gruesome CSI scene behind me, run into the bathroom stall and begin hyperventilating whilst nearly ripping the toilet paper roll right off the the wall. I'm cramming toilet paper into my tights, wondering if the ceremony would start without me. I clean up the best I can and check the full length and notice a few spots on my gown. FML. I'd be walking across the stage any minute now.
I book it back down the steep stairs wondering maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I fell, then I could blame the blood on some kind of injury. I slip back into my seat, eyes paralyzed with fear, brows drenched with sweat. R asked if I was okay, but I was kind of slipping into a catatonic state.
I whisper to him and tell him what happened. He says he knew because when I abruptly launched up, I'd left behind a big stain on my white folding chair. Luckily, he thinks fast on his feet, so he grabbed a tiny sheet of yellow paper from the chair in front of him and covered up the stain. FAAAACK.
I stand a couple times for him to check if the entire back of my gown was covered in uterine lining. T'was not, as he informs me, pretending to fix my hood. I was a major stress ball the entire ceremony, trying to balance atop this 5 by 3 little yellow piece of paper, dreading walking across the stage.
Good thing the gown was maroon, but STILL, quite mortifying. If ever ablation seemed like a good idea... I think I'm 100% sold.
Who the fuck had to clean up my chair?