If you’ve never had a pregnancy scare, I might actually question if you are female. Literally, I go through this every month. Whether it’s because of stress or a change in diet or some other lame excuse we repeatedly tell ourselves, sometimes Aunt Flo visits a little late. And, ladies, I think you’ll agree that the only thing worse than getting your period is NOT getting your period. Your YOLO moment might have been fun in the moment, but now it’s coming back to haunt you like the Grim Reaper, because basically, your life is over. Or at least that’s what you think. No matter how much “protection” I use or how “abstinent” I remain, I will always freak the fuck out as soon as my period is five seconds late. Here is a timeline of the typical madness associated with a pregnancy scare.
10 a.m.: If you’re like me, you have to use an app to track every detail of your life–including your period. When it’s that time again, I make sure to have my phone alert me that Aunt Flo is coming. It’s kind of like, “Uh oh. Hide yo’ kids. Hide yo’ wives. ‘Cause this girl is about to get her period.” You make a quick run to the store to pick up extra pain pills, tampons, and chocolate. When the flood gates open, all hell will break loose.
1 p.m.: Okay, I haven’t started my period yet, but I’m craving chocolate, cheese, and carbs like nobody’s business, so everything must be okay, right? But what if I’m getting those cravings because I’m pregnant? What if somehow the condom didn’t work? Or I threw up my birth control pill after having too much tequila? Should I tell my boyfriend (or worse, my not-boyfriend)? What if I have to raise a child!? I can’t do this! I’m too young for this! You know what? I’ll just keep it to myself. After all, it would make for a pretty sweet candle pass.
3 p.m.: Holy mother of God, this is real. It’s over. It’s all over. How am I going to tell my parents? I can’t even tell you the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed since the last time I had sex. This baby is going to be so messed up. What have I done? What about school? How do I finish college with a baby? Do I drop out? Do I keep it? Oh, fuck, how can I do any of that? I can’t keep it…but I can’t not keep it. Mom is going to kill me. Dad is going to kill me, and he’ll kill the father, too. It’s over. How did I do this to myself? I’m in my prime. My youth is wasted. I can’t get fat! I’ll never be the same. Ugh, no one understands me.
4 p.m.: “You know, I’ve been working out a lot. It could be that. I was stressed about that test a few weeks ago, so it could be that, too. I started cutting back on the bacon at brunch–can that make me late? Wait. Did I even have sex recently? I think I did at the beginning of the month, but that was, like, a long time ago.”
*Googles “how long does sperm live?”*
“Three to five days?! I’m never having sex again. I need to call Mom. She’ll know what to do.”
4:05 p.m.: You call your mom crying in fear. After telling her you’re a day late (for the umpteenth month in a row) her reply is a joking, “Oh, honey, it’s just a bump in the road, or in your tummy, or something like that.”
“Thanks, Mom! You’re sooooo funny. Love you, too.” *ends call* “BITCH.”
10 p.m.: I LITERALLY CAN’T EVEN ANYMORE. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t study. I have to buy a pregnancy test. Forget the candle pass! I need someone to come with me to buy this thing.
Your roommate, who is currently rallying during an intense o-chem study session, wakes up to see a sweaty, psycho woman shaking her and screaming about babies. Somehow you con her into coming with you, and if she’s a veteran of this sort of thing, she might even buy the pregnancy test for you. If not, get ready for the cashier to judge you so hard. Just try not to cry at the store like I did. I promise, it will only make matters worse.
10:20 p.m.: “Okay. Plus means positive. Minus means negative. What? How the hell am I supposed to pee for five seconds straight? Is Starbucks open? Coffee is a diuretic, right?”
10:45 ?.m.: You finally make it back to your bathroom, chug a whole glass of water, wait all of four seconds for that to digest, pull down your pants, and see that you’ve (VOILÀ!) magically started your period.
“You have got to be kidding me. Well, I better take this thing anyway just to make sure they actually work. You never know when this will happen again.”
Repeat every month.
Image via Oasis Medical Center
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