It was 1986 and I was in sixth grade. Much to my chagrin, I began to get hair on my legs that year. Most of the time knee socks took care of the “problem,” as we wore uniforms. One day all of the girls were rolling down their socks and I rolled mine down, one of my friends exclaimed, “OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THAT HAIR!” I wanted to die. So, that night when I got home, I snuck into my mom’s bathroom and swiped her razor. Armed with nothing but a dull razor and a sense of desperation, I started the job. Unfortunately, the only result was a pair of hacked up, semi-smooth legs. That night, my legs bled all over my bed. The next morning, I got the “talk” as my mom had seen the bloody sheets. In order to hide my crime, I pretended that I had gotten my period. The next week, a girl saw the pads in my closet and told everyone at school. Despite my protestations and my story of the hacked-up legs, no one believed me. Needless to say, when I actually DID get my period several months later, I had no one to tell. I couldn’t tell my mom for fear that she would be angry and I couldn’t tell my friends as they wouldn’t believe me. I ended up telling my mom when I was about 20 and she was so upset that I kept it from her. To this day, this story encapsulates all of my preteen angst.

So to kick off this blog, I thought I would write about my first period experience. As you can see, it’s under the “Oh So Wrong” page. No one else’s post has to be this long but for the first one, I’ll give a bit of back story:

In my family there’s a running joke about my parents never taking us to the dr unless your limb was about to fall off. If you were profusely bleeding they might consider it. As a kid, I went more than my siblings did because I had an issue with my feet. When I was about 10, I was in the pediatrician’s office and he mentioned that I would get my period soon. I didn’t know what to make of that so I paid no attention to it.

My mother certainly didn’t address the subject with me. Growing up in the 1940’s as a Catholic, first generation Italian American did not set my mother up to be anything but mortified by the topic of sex. She had no idea what to say to me. I don’t even think she had ever said the word.

Unfortunately for me, the pediatrician was correct.  It arrived a few months after that visit. I remember it being the end of August. My friend had slept over the previous night but had left right before I went into the bathroom to discover the horror. I knew that girls got their period but was completely unprepared, needless to say. I don’t think I could’ve said why they got it and I certainly didn’t expect it to happen to me at that moment. It was nowhere on my radar. I waited one long torturous morning for my mother to come home from work for lunch. If I had to pick a soundtrack to that morning it might be the Jaws theme. The crescendo occurs too quickly but the level of impending doom I felt seemed appropriate.

She walked in the door to the garage and across our kitchen. When she stood in front of me in the hallway about to go to the bathroom I stopped her. I mumbled something about seeing blood when I went to the bathroom.

“That’s ok. You just have to use one of those things” was all she said before she walked away. Part of me thought “well thank God that’s over”. The other part of me thought “ARE YOU KIDDING? That’s it? Why did I bother telling her?” I spent the entire morning with every one of my inner organs in a twist and that was all she had to say.

It’s bad when even a 10 year old knows there has to be a better answer.

Did your parents threaten to throw a Mardi Gras parade after your first period arrived? Or did your June Cleaver of a mother have the perfect response? Send me an e-mail at crpatullo@yahoo.com or leave a comment below to tell your story.