I Am Woman, Hear me Roar!

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar!

My first period made its debut in July, 1984. I was twelve, in bed after I just got back from doing my paper route, trying to go back to sleep. I was having the worst cramps. I had them all summer, but that morning was the worst. Before that morning, I counted out loud when I had them, trying to distract myself. One two three… by ten the cramps would be gone. That morning the cramps had no end. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Tears formed in my eyes. God, make it stop, please!

Then I felt this whoosh between my legs. The cramps drifted away from my body, like a boat leaving the port. I waved good-bye to them and I fell asleep.

That summer Mom was temping, so some days she had off. My younger brother Patrick was at day camp so we watched the soaps, and then hit the bargain matinees if we had money. We were watching Guiding Light as Reva danced around in her slip, snapping her fingers, declaring herself the Slut of Springfield. I had to go to pee. I was licking a Popsicle, the chocolate melting all over my hands.

In the bathroom I pulled down my underpants, then I looked down and I saw something red. I realized it was blood. For a moment I just stared at my underpants, like it wasn’t real. Blood! My blood, from my body!

OH MY GOD!!!!! I GOT MY PERIOD!!!!!

I peed and I ran out of the bathroom, dropping my Popsicle on the floor. “Mom! Mom! I got my period!”

“What?”

“I got my period! Want to see?”

“Oona, I don’t want to look! Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I got it.”

She hugged me. “Do you need any help putting on a pad?”

“God, Mom, I can do it. I’m not a baby.”

“You can use one of mine. We’ll run by Walgreen’s today and buy you a box of your own.” Mom hid her box of pads in the linen closet behind the towels. I took the box out and I studied the box. It had a picture of a pretty blonde woman running around on the beach in white pants.

“Want to go out to lunch?” Mom asked.

“Can we afford it?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we go to Evie’s?”

“Sure.”

I went back to the bathroom and put the pad on. I looked at myself in the mirror. Oona Maureen Ryan, you are a woman. This is proof that you are a woman. I didn’t see a woman. I saw a twelve-year-old girl with tangled red hair, a chocolate mustache, and two huge pimples on her chin that were ready to pop.

It only lasted two days. I kept on thinking why do women go on and on what a hassle it is? This is easy!

In August it didn’t come. A week after school started, I woke up at 5:30 to do my paper route. My thighs felt moist. For a moment I thought I’d wet the bed. I turned on the light. Blood was over my sheets, my thighs, my quilt, and my nightgown. “Mom! Mom, help me!”

My little brother Patrick ran into the room. “What’s the matter?” He stepped closer to the bed. “Man, did you stab yourself or what?”

“Get out of here, you little brat!” I shrieked.

Mom came in. “What is going on?” She looked at my bed. “Oh, God. Patrick, go back to bed.”

“Why do I have to go back to bed?” Patrick whined.

“Because I said so. Now go!” He trudged out of my room.

“Mom, I didn’t know it could get this messy!”