Aunt Flow

I was 14 when I got my first period. I was expecting it since most of my friends had already gotten theirs. There was a little Italian restaurant that we passed by every morning on the way to school. For some reason my mom and I had decided that when I became a woman we would dine here to celebrate. I ordered spaghetti marinara. And when the server placed it in front of me, I burst into tears and couldn’t eat it. The sauce was too reminiscent of the tragedy of menstruation that had befallen me…

At summer camp when my friend Rachel got her period (she was young maybe 10 or 11), she couldn’t figure out how to insert a tampon. Or was it remove it? Regardless, Rachel solicited my help. I can still imagine the exact bed she was sitting on as I kneeled between her legs. The shame of helping a girlfriend in this way was so great that I have never told anyone about this experience…

When I was young and still using sanitary pads, my aunt told me I absolutely had to try tampons – that I’d never go back. Recently I tried a Diva Cup for the first time. While I was a bit offended that I qualified for the larger size (determined by age and number of children you’ve had), I can safely say that I will never go back! I want to shout the message from my rooftop – the Diva Cup is really THAT revolutionary…

I am very grateful I never had to figure out how to wear one of these contraptions, though I do grieve the days when it was acceptable to sit out of P.E. class when Aunt Flow was in town.

Published by imworriedmytherapisthatesme

I'm a history-PhD-turned-stay-at-home-mom of three. When I'm not microwaving Trader Joe's meals for my kids, breaking up fights and wiping butts, I like to paint and write. To cope with the endless hours I'm spending with my son doing virtual school, I've abandoned my gouache paints for the more portable, less messy tried but true, paper and ink. While he learns to read to 20 floating heads on his screen, I sit on a tiny chair, at a tiny table pretending to be a productive adult.

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