Periods. They Don't Just End Sentences

Wednesday night was one of those perfect girls nights. Kelly picked up me and Alyson from work and we began our plans of dinner and a Target run. What girl doesn't need a black velour leisure suit to help her through the frigid Chicago winter?

Dinner was met with tears as we all talked about what's going on in our lives. We had to cheer each other up somehow, so the topic turned to when we started our first periods. The moral of the story is that if we could make it through our first periods in our pre-teen days, then surely we'll make it through what's going on in our lives now.

I detested any talk about periods when I was in those fragile stages of 10 and 11 years old. It had to do with the changing of my body and would eventually lead to "the talk." My mom tried to talk to me about it several times but I always cut her off with a "I KNOW ALREADY MOM!" It's true, I did know. I just picked up on things at school: discussions, stories, innuendos. I was a pretty perceptive child. I spent most of my time observing and listening to others.

I remember we had a special talk at school for girls only. The teachers gathered us into the auditorium and proceeded to tell us about the menstrual cycle and changes we could be expecting in the near future. You could order this neat little box filled with pads, pamphlets and a resourceful book on life changes. They must have sent a letter home to the parents because my mom ordered on for me and one for my sister. I remember getting the brown box filled with the goodies and being utterly horrified. Meanwhile my sister was giddy with delight and couldn't wait to read more about "life changes" out loud from the book. My sister was the kind of girl who couldn't wait to play dress up and wear my mothers heals and jewelry. I was more inclined to throw the football around and ask the boys at school to punch me in the stomach to show them I was tough. I wasn't an extreme tomboy. Most wouldn't have classified me as one by looking at me. My appearance didn't give me away, except for that unfortunate hair cut that left me with a mullet in fourth grade. Tragic and a story for another time.

First periods are startling, overwhelming, exciting and horrifying all at once. How are they exciting? I don't know. I just know that most mom's have an innate knowledge that tells them they need to act excited when their daughters tell them they started their period. It's a "My girl is so grown up!" "You're a woman!" But we all know now what our mothers were really thinking: "And here innocence ends and high-maintenance begins." Welcome to a life of water-retention, insatiable chocolate cravings, hot pads and maxi pads, midol and the fear of leakage. Goodbye white pants during certain times of the month. Hello mood swings.

If dealing with being a teenager wasn't hard enough, girls had to deal with their periods. I remember sixth grade being an especially rough time for girls who were new to menstrual cycles. Not everyone had started yet but it was obvious if you had. If a girl made the march to the bathroom carrying her purse, there were hushed whispers or unspoken thoughts of "she must be a slut." And heaven forbid that a guy got ahold of your purse and looked through it! What if he found a pad?!

Praise God for the day that I first learned how to use a tampon. It's been nothing but freedom ever since. Try going to a summer camp for 4 weeks during the summer and having to take swim class the first day of your period. How many excuses can one make up? You quickly learn to embrace the tampon. Some girls' mothers show them how to use it. Others just follow the instructions in the box and try to figure out the pictures. Most of our first thoughts were, "This can't be right. I'm supposed to stick this where?"

If only I knew back then that one day I would be laughing over dinner with my friends talking openly about my period, it wouldn't have seemed so daunting. I can't wait for the day when I can order a fun package for my daughter and explain the joys of womanhood. She'll probably scream back at me "I KNOW ALREADY MOM!" And I'll just think to myself, "That's my girl."