I was 11. Hopefully everything Im about to say makes sense because I find it very difficult to talk about this sort of stuff or use certain words. Im so squeamish of intimacy. Anyway, after I told my mother I never talked about it with her, and she never bothered to buy me anything. At 11-12 years old its not really my job. So I ran out pretty quickly, and I was too scared to ask for anything on top of her never making the effort to think, so I had to reuse things (just think about that for a moment), I would wash them in the shower. Or Id stuff a shirt or rolled up toilet paper down my pants. Sometimes when I had the chance Id sneak into her room to look for stuff. I used to smell so bad because of it, especially when having to reuse, I remember once at school the teacher was asking the class what smelt so bad and ended up opening the windows to air out the room. Only now do I realise how revolting that is.