I was a late bloomer. Most people experience this rite of passage well before their 28th birthday.
I'm not quite sure how I'd avoided it for so long. I was a normal, healthy, active girl.
Al would shake his head in exasperation whenever the time seemed near and I'd perform my much practiced technique to ensure it did NOT happen to me;
Scream. Flail. Run.
In that order. Worked every time.
Ever patient that Al;
"Just calm down. Relax. Don't freak out. Nothing bad will happen."
"Says you. It has happened to you countless times with your method. I'm gonna stick to scream, flail, and run thank you very much."
We'd been together three years when the day finally came. A beautiful late Spring day on the old dairy farm. Digging and weeding and mowing and planting and just loving up our little patch of earth as best we could.
I love me the sight and smell of a hard working man. Covered in dirt and smelling of fresh cut grass and sweat. I'd had enough of admiring Al from across the field and started making my way toward him.
Long grass tickling my bare feet and legs. The wind tossing around sounds of birds and bugs and rushing water. It was quite the romantic little scene as I skulked on over to my man.
And then it happened. It. Happened.
Before I could execute my patentend scream, flail, run, maneuver it was already happening.
I'd heard many a tale about how badly it can hurt, but I was unprepared for the sensation;
"Motherfucker! Motherfucker. Mother! Fucker!!!"
Dramatically grasping the insulted body part whilst hopping about shrieking obscenities.
As Al rolled around the grass in full hysterics at my display.
"I knew it would hurt but holy old fuck, I didn't expect it to hurt THAT much! FuckFuckFuckFuck!!!"
Still jumping and flailing and crying as much with laughter as with pain.
I dared take a gander at the affected area, still in agony;
And plucked the bumble bee out of the tip of my toe.
And that my friends, is the tale of the first time I got stung by a bee after 28 years of...not being stung by any bees.
I still check the Red Dress Club prompts every week.
This week was a fill in the blank:
The first time I ________-ed after _________-ing.
This was the first time that popped into my head.
And? A big fuck you to whoever told me that bumble bees don't sting.
And? A bigger fuck you to the yellow jacked hive I stepped on just days after the bumble bee incident. I couldn't count how many times I got stung.