“Mom, I got my period.” She says as though receiving a report card she’d been waiting on. She doesn’t smile (who would?) and says it so timidly.
Surely she must know that her snappy attitude of the past 72 hours gave me an idea that something was up. And now, after an emergency stop during our shopping trip, she confirms it: she has traveled the path and arrived at her womanhood.
There’s nothing awkward in the conversation that follows, just the discussion of logistics and next steps. It’s a natural part of growing up and she’d been warned by everyone that it was coming. Her only worry has been that it’d arrive during class, like it did for some girl in white pants last year. But she welcomed hers on the weekend, and she had no fear.
Ever since her discovery, she’s been waiting – just waiting – to feel something different, but there really is no difference. She’s no different today than she was yesterday or the day before this miraculous discovery. It’s Just that now she’s fully immersed in puberty (and with a newly confirmed boyfriend in tow!).
Poor thing she said she’s not “craving chocolate,” nor is she “moody” (that’s not true, believe me). She “must be doing something wrong,” she says. But there’s no wrong or right as far as periods go. It’s just a cycle of life that never seems to end.
She is wondering why she doesn’t “hate it.” All her friends complain about theirs. Next month, I’m sure she’ll know why and will no longer be excited about this new, wonderful thing that is happening to her little body. No, next month she will not be welcoming Aunt Flow. She’ll wish that this frequently visiting relative would just go.