I was 11. I had already (thanks to some crazy genes I got from my family) developed a little bit of a chest. Randomly, it seemed like, my mother would steal me way into the bathroom and talk about periods. Thinking back I know she must have explained tampons and pads, but all I remember is her ending our talks with “When it’s time, we’ll come in the bathroom and I’ll show you what to do.” Great.
Fast-forward to Christmas Eve of 1995. I was at a Christmas party family friends of ours threw every year. Usually friends and I would sit in my friends room and play video games on the SNES, or chat. This time we were in the library talking about our periods. One girl had gotten it, but the rest were waiting. Later, the family presented the guests with gifts. I got a fleece nightgown with cats all over it. A great gift if I ever saw one!
As I tried it on at home later that night I saw a red discharge in my skivvies. I quickly ran down to find mother when someone said, “She’s at the store.” NOW? When she got back she took one look at my undies and exclaimed, “Welcome to the club!” I thought, “Great! How do I quit?” When I put on my first pad, my mom showed me how to wrap used ones so people wouldn’t be able to tell what that was. And, for the most part, everything was fine…until my brothers found out.
I had accidentally left red spot on the bathroom floor when I was looking for the pads. My brother Dan, the middle child, must’ve seen it, because the second I saw him, he said nervously, “Be GONE from my sight! BE GONE!!!”
Thankfully, I got used to having periods and realized that they weren’t these horrible things to endure, but something every women has, and that’s okay!
Oh, and my brother Dan eventually came around. We’re all cool now.
Cover image courtesy of Shutterstock.
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