When I got home, my mom demanded to know why I was wearing shorts in December. I told her I’d started my period and she didn’t believe me until I pulled out my ruined jeans. The closest thing to an apology I received was a mostly unstained pair of jeans returned to me, that had taken her hours to remove all the blood. It was something that could have happened to any girl my age and it wasn’t the only time it happened to me in my life. (Although it was the only time when wearing white because I learned from the first time). But it felt like she set me up for the embarrassment by not taking it seriously when I showed her I was spotting. It certainly didn’t help my social life or self esteem much!
A few guys came onto the beach. Several of them dropped their towels on the sand, quickly ripped of the shorts revealing their bathing suits underneath, and took off running toward the ocean. One of the guys wasn’t as fast as the others. He probably was the driver. So he ended up coming in last to drop his towel. The others had already taken a few steps toward the water. Not thinking, and wanting to be part of the group, he hurriedly pulled off his shorts. He realized when the swimsuit band was mid thigh, and struggled to get them back up. I was watching mainly because the guys came up so quick. I felt a bit bad for him, and I could tell he was embarrassed, but he looked around for a second, red faced, and ran after the others.