I was a late bloomer. At 15 years old, I had gotten breasts and was fairly tall, but I still hadn’t hit menarche. I was beginning to think I was infertile, and I would always clam up around girls at the lunch table talking about period woes. I was also jealous that I didn’t have that excuse to get out of swim class! I always thought I would wake up one morning, see the blood as I stepped into the shower, and look at myself in the mirror, feeling like a true woman. Instead, I got it in global history class the year I turned 15. I’d simply gone to the bathroom and saw a very small amount of blood. As excited as I was, I couldn’t show it. I didn’t want my young, attractive male history teacher to know! I stuffed a wad of toilet paper between my legs and ran back to class, unable to concentrate on anything else. I got home and got a lot more fanfare from my mother than expected. She took us all out to my favorite restaurant in my honor.
by Edyta Sloane
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