Ouch. There's a tug somewhere deep in my gut.
Ooh, a pinch almost.
I hunch over, placing one one hand on my stomach.
Squint my eyes and scrunch my nose.

"You okay, ***?"

"Yeah, ma. Can I just try on these jeans and get home? My tummy hurts."

"You feel like you're gonna puke?"

"No, just a little crampy."

The discomfort continues.
I grab the Levi's. Size 12/14.
Shuffle into the dressing room.

"Uh, mom . . . ?"

"Yeah? Are they too big?"

"Uh, no . . . " Then, in hushed tones. "Can you come here?"

"What?"

"Uh . . . I think maybe. I uh, got my period."

Silence. Anticipation. Waiting for the happy mom, excited squeal, and Welcome-to-Womanhood! hug. A My-Little-Girl's-Growing-Up smile at the very least.

Instead, with a straight face, "Oh, well, we'll have to take care of that. Did the jeans work out?"