14 years old, and it hit.  I sat on the toilet yelling, "Mom, Mom!" When she finally showed up, I opened the door just enough for her to enter the bathroom.  While in the bathroom she crawled on the floor, looking through the cupboards, searching for a pad.  Well, she frantically searched and searched and could not find me a pad. Desperate, she handed me a tampon.  Everyone says tampons aren't for first timers, but I had no choice.  (Well I guess I could have let the fun drip down my leg)  Oh, and did I mention my Mother only had the super fatty tampons?  Yes, that's right.  She handed me a "dill-pickle" sized tampon and explained to me how it worked and then instructed me to put it in.  She left the bathroom and I began looking for the elusive whole from which this whole mess originated.  Ok, soafter a while of searching, poking, and prodding I yelled for my Mom, again.  I explained to her that she must be crazy because "I have no hole down there."  She laughed.  I cried.  With her standing over me, I made a second, third, and fourth attempt to no avail.  My frustration was mounting and she was getting a little huffy as well. Out of options, I layed on the bathroom floor, spread-eagle, while my Mom inserted my first tampon into the hole I didn't have.  And would you believe, I still use the same "dill-pickle" sized tampons to this day?

---Jennifer