What Puberty Made Me Do

The Lovely Colour Red

The Lovely Colour Red
(Red On The Bed)

The first time I realised I had actually hit puberty was when one lovely morning I awoke on a school day, looking like my pyjama pants had drank a tonne of ketchup in the night. Sorry to put that image in your head but I think the situation was a bit more traumatic for me, the 11-year-old child who was actually looking at this thing that suddenly just rolled up into my chill life. Looking back now, I find it quite funny because of two reasons.

Reason number one: I was wearing all white clothes, so it made everything look that much more dramatic.

Reason number two: I handled the situation like a fucking pro. Yes, that's right, my perfect solution to this problem was to fold up the sad-looking white (ish) pyjamas and change into my school uniform like it was a normal school day. After changing, I picked up my neatly folded pyjamas and went to my parents' room and plonked them on their nice clean bed. Now, you need to know that as a child I would find talking about awkward situations really -well- awkward with my parents. So, what I used to do was I would write them (mostly my mum) a little letter explaining the situation.

So that's what I did: I wrote my mum a letter telling her about this morning's events. I told her I was sorry and that she would have to wash them ASAP if they were to be saved. They were also my favourite pyjamas too, so it was a bit of a sorry sight.

I left the note on the bed next to the sorry sight, and I go back to my room. When I return, I realise the pyjamas aren't the only ones needing to be saved today. My sheets -my poor, poor sheets- were shown no mercy to this grizzly side of adulthood. At the one, I probably felt like a hold who just wet the bed and did the walk of shame to their parents, only my bed was a bit more... Colourful.

This wasn't the end of my 'Red on the Bed' problem, either. I now have to face a mountain of confusion: sanitary towels.

How the fuck, why the fuck and what the fuck?

Although I had known what a period is and what happens etc. I had somehow built up the image up in my head that blood just gushes constantly out of you for -like- 72 hours or so. Since I had just left my mum a nice little letter of explanation, I couldn't just go up to her and ask because what would be the point in that if I already give her a letter of explanation?

That's no good, I must phone a friend. Literally.

I ended up messaging my then best friend because I knew she had already started her menstrual cycle, so she would have all the answers I was looking for. I look back at the memory now fondly (Is that weird?) because I would have been so stressed and frantic hadn't my friend helped out and told me how to use the pad. Thankfully that day I concluded that blood doesn't continuously pour out of me along with my soul, and that this would not be a fun job to have to do for a week, every single month. Not fun at all.

I first started to experience cramps a few months after my first period which seemed to be somewhat lucky for me. I always seemed to 'start' in the night when I was asleep, so it wasn't as bad. Also, one of the only lucky things in my life is that my cramps last a day -if that- and they aren't that bad. I mean, it's painful, but I know I've gotten off pretty well compared to other people going through cramps.

Now that I think about it, I never even realised I had hit puberty until I had my first period. It was like someone had just chucked an open bottle of Tesco Value Ketchup into my arms and said, "Deal with that every month from now on until you're super old." Like, hello? No?

Before my period, I didn't even know I had hormones! But when I read one of my old diaries, I can see quite clearly that I was going through this dramatic start of a red-looking life yet at the time I was so oblivious to the changes. I'm not too keen on the word "change" when it comes to this sort of topic because I feel like I'm describing myself as turning into a big angry, hairy beast that's on everybody's tails but then again, I guess it's true!

I have a few old diaries, none of which are remotely full; I don't even think half of the books are full. They are, however, filled it obvious and bright signs of "you're becoming a bitch now," and "Puberty is coming, and it will fucking knock your lights out Rhianna," but lil' ol' Rhianna didn't notice. It's actually funny to me, though because I clearly thought it was everyone else around me that was changing, and in fact not me. I genuinely thought that. In actual fact I was the one changing, it was me!

My first ever diary had a matching pen which I used only for the diary. It still hasn't run out yet to this day, but I bet it will run out soon. My first diary had the words "Little Gorjuss Thoughts" on the front. I remember always looking at the words and thinking to myself: there aren't many 'gorjuss' thoughts in here. I recently found the entry for the day I got my first period and I laughed. 14/01/14 was that day it all began.

Gosh, that sounds so dramatic, but we will roll with it. After all, it seemed dramatic to me at the time!

My last entry in that diary was 12/06/17 and I would definitely like to find some time to continue on the diary, but I don't think I have enough time right now. I did have other diaries though. I had two more: one which I called "A Poets Diary" which literally had a handful of poems in, and another diary which was basically just a small notebook my dad gave to me and I decided to use it as yet another diary (because I obviously didn't have enough already!) and decorated the front in stickers to jazz it up a bit.

It has been so long since writing in a diary yet looking back at the writing it's oddly comforting. But writing the experiences down feels a bit like exposing myself, which is a strange feeling for me.

-----------
Because someone (burningtherain) wanted to see it, here is the entry from this experience in my diary!
Enjoy, I guess. 😂