The Puberty Diaries

Prologue: Blood, Cramps, & Tears:

I was completely in the dark as to how much time had passed since I asked Mr. Blake if I could be excused from class. It felt like hours since that point in time, even though the school bell never even rang once after I left. Accompanying the borderline nausea piling up in my stomach, and the immense stash of excruciating pain stored behind the folds of my clitoris, I was also feeling rather guilty for missing such a large chunk of class. Especially since it was the third-to-last period of the day, and it was my worst class (with my most hated 8th Grade teacher at the reins) in which we were being given the whole period to work on a project - with no partners allowed, mind you! Could he have already cut my participation points for the day under the assumption that I was playing hooky? Would I have to work extra hard on this project, or would I be granted extra time? Would I even be able to explain to Mr. Blake why I was gone so long?

Hah! Bullshit! He's a man! No way would he understand what I'm going through!

Like with nearly all girls, my first period occurred with little to no warning, and that day was when it ultimately hit me like a satchel of cinder-blocks. Most people assume that turning eighteen is when a kid officially becomes an adult, and though that principle may hold true for guys, anyone who says that it applies to females is talking out of their ass. For anyone who actually uses their mouth to talk, they would know that experiencing one's first menstrual cycle is when they truly become a woman, for only after that point can they produce children (a.k.a. the main reason behind a human's existence). All of my close friends had experienced theirs earlier on - some of them about as soon as 5th Grade. But as with most signs of puberty (aside from the increase in height and the development of a well-defined gluteus maximus), I was behind them by a long-shot. And what made things worse was a brutally honest and mind-boggling statement issued by my doctor during a routine check-up in 6th Grade: I was irregular. From that point on, I was utterly terrified every single day, for I had no way of knowing where womanhood's first strike would come from.

That is until today, when it finally happened - and goddamn, was it a gusher! I guess in a way, I was thankful that I was finally hitting my period after months and years of anxiety, but any gratitude within me was overshadowed by the agony and inward panic I was feeling... alongside the utter shock at how heavy this particular cycle was turning out to be. Taking a series of deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm my tits, I lightly sniffled as I looked down below to eye the brand new spectacle. My legs were still trembling just as vigorously as they had when I first felt this odd sensation - more than likely enough to make them even more toned than they already were. Though I thankfully hadn't gotten a single droplet of uterine lining on my panties, the same could not be said for the toilet bowl. A liberal amount of AB+ (and whatever other chemical compounds made up said lining) had spilled out into the toilet, turning the transparent, colorless water into opaque, Cherry 7-Up and nearly doubling the total volume in the bowl.

Only a matter of time before this thing overflows.

Some of the fluid had leaked out much more forcefully than the rest, resulting in a dried, crimson pattern all around the edges that I would've deemed an accidental piece of art if it wasn't freaking me the fuck out. Sitting in the center of the bowl and only now starting to sink was a lone tampon (probably the smallest size they had at the local Walgreen's), which I had completely bled through. In spite of its effectiveness, I still felt obligated to thank my mother for the preparation, for she had forced me to start wearing those things long before I actually became a woman. Feeling that I would puke if I stared at my own bodily substances for any longer (and wondering if I could possibly suffer from blood-loss as a result of this ordeal), I reeled my head back in and took a sideways glance at the two to three rolls of toilet paper in the plastic dispenser to my right. I wanted so badly to start rapidly pulling it off and using it to clean myself up, and maybe even stuff a few fist-sized wads of it into my clit in order to hold myself off until I could get home.

Hey! ANYTHING'S better than just sitting here for hours!

But alas, there was no way I would be able to do that. Even ignoring the pain that would undoubtedly stem from doing such a thing, I had already expelled what felt like gallons of blood and was still leaking voluminously, and there was just no way that the toilet paper would last very long under those circumstances. It felt like a full millennium before the door to the empty ladies' room slowly and faintly creaked open. Too wracked with pain to lean forward and peek under the door, I could only listen as a rolling trashcan was pulled onto the piña colada-colored tiles, followed by the steps of some rubber-covered feet. I vowed to stay quiet until the custodian left, for being exposed as 'the girl who had her first taste of womanhood in a public bathroom stall' would be something I'd almost certainly never be able to live down. If I were able to just lay low until she left, I'd be in the clear... well, unless she were to catch a whiff of my blood.

"Uuuunnnngggghhhh..." I abruptly moaned.

As a massive adrenaline rush entered my veins and capillaries, I screamed internally and slapped a hand over my mouth. However, my vagina apparently had other ideas, deciding to pump out a small portion of its load a bit harder than the rest, resulting in a sharp sting of pain in both itself and my stomach. ... And that very moan had effectively blown my cover!

You traitor!

"Hello?" The custodian asked.

I didn't dare to reply, silently praying to myself that she would just shrug off whatever she heard, finish up whatever she came in here to do, and fuck off. Yet my body betrayed me again and forced me to moan a second time, but this time with more agony and desperation behind it. It was almost as if my folds had become sentient, gotten tired of letting out so much blood, and were now crying out for assistance.

"Hello? Are you alright, young lady?" The custodian asked again.

No way out of this now, I guess!

"No." I replied, an unusual quaver in my JLo-esque voice, "I'm... uh, I'm on... I'm on my..."

"Oh! I see, I see! Gotcha!" The custodian replied, "Er... let me procure assistance! What's your mom's contact information?"

Even though I was still worried about what schoolwork I'd need to catch up on tomorrow, I gave a sigh of relief when - after what felt like another eternity - the valve that lay deep within my uterus finally squeaked itself shut (though not before leaving a few small stains on my favorite timber wolf-colored yoga-pants), and my mother picked me up. I must've looked like a hot mess to the countless students gawking and giggling at me - the aforementioned bloodstains, the cold sweat trickling downwards from my brow, the sheepish blush on my face which only accentuated the dried tears, my constantly jittering frame... a dream come true, really! And as if I wasn't embarrassed enough from having everyone focus their undivided attention on me, she also showed up in a fuzzy cranberry-colored robe which obscured the racy burnt sienna lingerie set that she had on underneath.

"You alright, nija?" She asked tenderly.

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine." I replied, hopelessly trying to hide how visibly shaken I was.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." Mom said as she slipped an arm around my shoulder and escorted me out.

I didn't dare to look behind me, though I could still feel the hundreds upon hundreds of middle-schoolers continuing to stare at me. Even so, the touch of my mother's fabric-covered arm felt very comforting to me, and was probably the only thing that kept me from bursting into tears out of embarrassment alone. And despite that, I still couldn't help but ponder what could happen next. The only things I knew for certain were that I would be completely unaware of when my next period would occur until it was too late, and that my life was now gonna be severely compromised. I now had to build schedules around my bouts of menstruation (or at least try my best to, given my irregularity), spend extra money on my already growing assortment of feminine products, and invest in two different bra-sizes so I could achieve optimal support no matter the time of the month.

The inconvenience of my first cycle would also make me a mock-target amongst the student-body, and the fact that there was only one more month of school left would mean that it'd take at least until summertime for everyone to eventually forget about it and move on with their lives.