7 Girls & 1 Mug: First Periods and Blocked Toilets

Where were you? 

It’s the biological equivalent of ‘where were you when JFK got shot?’ It’s November now and I give myself until February at the latest before mine starts.

One of my lovely housemates got hers during sports day; she started the 100m a girl and finished it a woman. How wonderful.

Another one of the girls crossed the threshold into womanhood during a day of clay pigeon shooting. We’ve all been there.

I’ve never brought less to a conversation than I did to the one in question. So there’s me thinking I’ve heard and seen it all. I was wrong.

Now I’ve never been one to shy away from toilet humour, but upon discovering our upstairs toilet to be blocked yesterday, I became more than a little flushed. (apologies)

I’ve always been a no.2 denier (the widely held belief that girls don’t poo) and so this discovery shocked me to my masculine core.

This then led to a ‘who dunnit’ situation like no other. We had a grim mystery on our hands which had to be solved. Who could do this? Who had a digestive system defying Dino’s last night? And most important of all, who was going to glove up and deal with the situation?

The perpetrator came forward that evening and revealed herself. She had eaten 15 eggs in two days as well as a steady stream of lucozade and had consumed enough garlic to keep a French family happy for several months. What bothered me most was the definite shimmer of pride which was written all over her face.

She had blocked the toilet and was more than happy about it. Girls do poo.