Welcome to Womanhood, Here’s Twenty Bucks.

Fall of 2006. The smell of axe body spray and acne medicine filled the room. Well that, but also a hint of insecurity and self doubt too. Thirty to forty sweaty, pre pubescent teens were crammed into a room with each other against their own will, not sure which horror they would be exposed to today.

That’s right I’m talking about my first middle school health class.

It was my first class of the day, bright and early at eight in the morning. Honestly, I can’t think of a better time of the day to tell eleven year olds all about reproductive health and where babies come from.

This morning was different than the other mornings. I had been feeling gross all week, but on this particular day I was convinced I was dying.

“Mom, I really don’t feel good can I stay home?” I asked with pleading eyes.

“WHAT ABOUT YOUR FUTURE? COLLEGE IS RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER” my mother proclaimed.

Keep in mind this was in sixth grade. My mother has such a way with words.

I hobbled into the classroom, and fell into the first seat that was open.

“Alrighty class today we are going to talk about the menstrual cycle!”

A few kids in the class snickered, but everyone for the most part just looked confused. Confused, and uncomfortable. To be fair, when you are in middle school there is a nine out of ten chance that you look uncomfortable for no real reason.

But all of the sudden I had a reason: I just peed my pants.

“CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM??” I exclaimed as I already launched myself out of my seat.

I ran to the first bathroom I could find and locked myself in the stall to analysis the entire situation. I figured the first thing I should do would be to get rid of the urine stained khols underwear. I swiftly took of my pants off and screamed.

I was peeing blood.

I started crying in the bathroom stall, thinking about who I should leave all of belongings too because obviously, I was dying. My life began to flash before my eyes, and for some reason Hannah Montanna made a few to many appearances during my reflection. I pulled myself together and told myself, you don’t deserve to die in a bathroom stall in hell.

At least die in a classroom in hell.

I somberly walked toward my desk. Tears staining my cheeks, and blood staining my other cheeks.

“…Women go through this once a month. It’s called a period…” my teacher explained in a bit too excited tone of voice. She began scrolling through slides of what a period was when it hit me: I wasn’t going to die.

I was just a woman now.

Apparently.

The school day finally ended and the bus took me back to my neighborhood. I rushed into the kitchen to tell my mother that I was now a woman.

“MOM I’M HAVING A MENSTRUAL CYCLE.”

“QUITE I’M ON THE PHONE.”

“BUT MOM. PERIOD.”

“…there are pads upstairs…”

I was a little disappointed that she wasn’t as excited as I was, but it wasn’t a big deal. It was something I didn’t want the whole world knowing anyway.

A few days later there was a letter at the kitchen table with my name on it. Estatic, I quickly grabbed the letter to see who it was from. Mrs. Welsch. My third grade teacher.

“Ahh…mom…why did Mrs. Welsch send me a letter?”

“I’m not sure! Open it!”

I cautiously opened up the letter not sure what to expect. Inside I found a novel. What started as an innocent Hallmark card saying in big bold letters “CONGRATULATIONS!” on the front, turned into a fear I never knew I had. Mrs. Welsch had written me a three page essay welcoming me to womanhood.

Promotion. Promotion to womanhood that is.

My third grade teacher. Mrs. Welsch.

Third. Grade.

“Mom…”

“What?” she said far too innocently.

“Mom…did you tell Mrs. Welsch, my third grade teacher, that I got my period…?” I big part of me wanted to believe that my mother wouldn’t go around telling people that I was on my period. A part of me wanted to believe that Mrs. Welsch was actually the period fairy or something and that’s how she knew.

“Yeah I did! It just kind of came up!” she said as she walked out of the room.

I stood there unsure of what to do, when something fell out of the envelope. It was a twenty dollar bill with a note that said:

“We all know how awful periods can be, take this money and go buy yourself something to celebrate becoming a woman! Maybe some makeup!”

I’m pretty sure I bought pokemon cards.

-Poof