22 February 1999 ~ You are a woman now…

So I’m sitting here in my room, unsuccessfully trying to connect to the internet. I hate my school. Their server sucks. I’ll probably end up having to go ALL the way over to the computer lab to upload this to my site. And it’s REALLY windy outside, and it’s halfway between cold and supernaturally warm, so if I have to walk ALL the way across campus to the computer lab, I’ll have to wear my winter coat, and then I’ll end up all sweaty because my winter coat is too hot and I ran out of deoderant this morning (ACK!) and I don’t have enough money to buy any NEW deoderant because I have to save my pennies for a book I was supposed to buy at the BEGINNING of the semester, only I lent all my money to Peter and he hasn’t mailed it back yet!

Nothing is going right. Absolutely nothing. Which can only mean one thing… I’m due for my cycle any day now.

Okay, stop reading here if you’re male. Well, okay, you can continue reading, but I’m warning you: I sincerely doubt you’re really going to understand, and you might get grossed out. So. If you don’t want to hear it, this is where you press the back button.

I hate being a woman. I really do. I mean, come on, people: is it really fair that a twelve-year-old should be subjected to monthly pain and gross fluids and random bitchiness? Is it really fair that she should have to deal with all of that until she’s middle-aged? It’s so damn unfair. I remember Julie getting her first period when we were in ninth grade: she got horrible cramps and sat through study hall ripping her notebook into shreds and moaning quietly, “STERILIZE ME!” I pointed out that sterilization wouldn’t help, so she began moaning “FERTILIZE ME!” Then she began squeezing my arm, apparently to alleviate some of her pain; I had black and blue marks the next day.

Hormones. I hate them. They’re all against me. They made me the skinny awkward boobless one through middle school while all the other girls – at least from what I saw out the corner of my eye in the locker room – got rounder and prettier. They made me the perfectly-rounded-out thin one all through high school while the other girls hated me because THEY had to diet. They’ve made me ball up on the couch once a month, crying and swearing and vowing to be pregnant within two weeks. For the past six months or so, they’ve caused me to stay in bed for at least a day, sobbing and moaning and unable to feel the tips of my fingers or the bottoms of my feet from the pain in my abdomen. They’ve muddled my thoughts, forced me to say mean nasty things to people I love, yielded forth big red pimples from my face. They’re all against me.

When Jayden and I were in fourth grade, our parents signed permission slips for us to watch a video about The Menstruation Process. The boys went downstairs to the gym to talk about nocturnal emissions or play basketball or something, and the girls were hurried into a classroom upstairs. The door was shut, the lights were dimmed, the blinds were pulled, and a group of female teachers whispered all the secrets of womanhood to us. Then there was the movie. Most of us left thinking, “wow, I want one of those!” Anxiously, we awaited the arrival of Adulthood.

I got mine two months before my thirteenth birthday. The pamphlet from fourth grade projected that we’d get it between 11 and 17, but most likely at around 12 and a half. I figured I was pretty normal. Of course, I didn’t tell anyone but my mom, who whispered it to my dad (Mama didn’t have enough money to buy feminine supplies for me every month, so it was purely a financial thing, and I don’t hold it against her at all, especially since Daddy just got scared look on his face and avoided me for a few days: I think he was in denial…)

So I figured I was pretty normal, right? Of course right. Until all of a sudden, last June, something fucked up my body completely. The pain became unbearable. I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t lie down. I sure as hell couldn’t stand. It felt like my whole body had turned into a little puddle of water, and the water was boiling. Hot flashes, cold flashes, and pain like you wouldn’t believe. I took some painkillers (a few more than the recommended dose), and it subsided, but only for an hour or two. Ever since then, it’s been anything but normal. My cycle now consists of a week of bitchiness and suicidal depression, a day or two of excrutiating pain and really gross stuff coming out of me, and then four or five days of more gross stuff coming out of me. Then everything goes away for a week. Then I get muscle aches and tiredness and all of that, and then the cycle starts over. Although lately, my cycle's been slightly less than regular, which doesn't really please ANYONE, 'f you know w'm sayin...

When I woke up this morning, tripped over my notebook on the way to turning the alarm off, and threw the notebook across the room in frustration and rage, I realized it’s just about that time again. Time to make sure I’m constantly around other people and nowhere near any bridges, in case that depression comes back. Time to pray I don’t have a screaming fit at those other people, causing them to hate me forever. Time to clasp my hands together and pray it’s not as painful this time and that the Motrin will be effective so I don’t have to overdose trying to kill the cramps. Oh, gahd, I am so miserable.

Love,
Helena*

“…And Eve was weak and loosed the raven on the world. And the raven was called sin, and the first sin was Intercourse. And the Lord visited Eve with a Curse, and the Curse was the Curse of Blood…” --Margaret White in “Carrie.”