365 True Things: 294/Periods

I got my first period in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, when I was twelve. It was an unexpected shock. Yes, I had had the requisite fifth-grade sex education instruction, but that was all . . . abstract. Actually confronting the bright splash of blood was something visceral and strange.

There were, along the way, the odd missed periods—how do you spell w-o-r-r-i-e-d?—but they always resolved back into (welcome) bloodiness.

I hit menopause a few years ago, so now tampons and stained underwear, mood swings and cramping, are, thankfully, things well of the past.

I wrote a short story about my first period, which I posted here briefly, but a friend convinced me to hold it in reserve for possible actual publication. So: I will leave this at that.