As a 52-year-old woman, all I want is for life to slow down. Every year seems to pass faster than the last. As a seventh grader whose friends had all started their period, I just wanted things to move along so I could catch up with my friends. I guess you could say I was a “late bloomer.” My sister, Leslie, was an early bloomer who needed a bra in fourth grade. I remember the day our mom took us bra shopping. I was in sixth grade and didn’t need a bra yet, but mom took pity on me and bought me one anyway. I had nothing to put in it, but I had a bra. Things were looking up.
Soon after the bra purchase, my mom gave me the greatest gift ever. She had ordered an educational tool to facilitate a conversation with me about becoming a woman. More specifically, it was a box that contained everything a girl would need to know about menstrual cycles. Along with the educational materials there were various samples of feminine hygiene products. I LOVED that box. After our conversation, I stored my box on the top shelf of my bedroom closet; patiently waiting for the day I became a woman. I admit that I did get it down a few times. My sister and I enjoyed dropping the tampons in the toilet and watching them explode.
That summer, Leslie and I went to a week-long camp with our church youth group. We were so excited. We had been to girl scout camp with other girls before, but this camp had boys! A couple days in, Leslie, who was ten years old, got her very first period. She was devastated and embarrassed. Aside from the camp nurse, I was the only one who knew what was going on. She was so scared. Mom hadn’t had “the talk” with her so the nurse and I handled it. I let her know that it was our secret and that nobody else would know.
I still hadn’t had my first period yet, so there was a tiny bit of jealousy. It just wasn’t fair! I was the one with the box in my closet. I was ready! But I loved my sister and I swore to handle this situation like the best big sister in the world. Leslie had to go to the nurses tent several times a day to take care of her feminine hygiene needs. It was no big deal at first, but people started to ask why she was going to the nurse’s tent so often? I shut down their questions by telling them she was sick, but as the day’s passed, the questions continued. People wanted to know what was wrong with her. Out of pure frustration, I swore everyone to secrecy and let them know that Leslie had cancer and that she had to go to the nurse’s tent several times a day for her medication. It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.
At last, they left me alone and I had some peace. Leslie was fine with my plan because I had kept her secret. I had saved her from the embarrassment of people knowing she had started her period, or so I thought. There was one thing I hadn’t considered and it would come back to haunt me. A few days later our youth group got on the church bus and headed home.
Our parents picked us up from the church parking lot and took us home. We told our mom about the events of the week. My mom felt so bad that Leslie hadn’t been prepared. Then, the unthinkable happened. My mother went into my bedroom closet, took down my box, and gave it to my sister. It was bad enough that my little sister started her period before me, now she had my cherished box. Mom promised me she would get another one, but she never did. It was devastating.
On the other side of town, all of the kids from youth group that I had lied to were arriving home as well. Although I had sworn each of them to secrecy, they still told their parents that Leslie had cancer. Why would they do that? It’s simple really, they wanted their parents to pray for her. Why wouldn’t they? She had cancer. This was nothing to joke about. They were sincerely worried about her. Even worse, one of the parents added Leslie to the church prayer chain. The whole congregation was praying for my sister.
The following Sunday our family went to church. The word was out that Leslie had cancer so we received a lot of hugs, sad faces, and people telling us they were praying for Leslie. My parents were totally confused about this until one of our fellow campers parent’s asked them specifically about Leslie’s cancer. Oops! The cat was out of the bag. My parents spent most of that Sunday explaining to multiple families that their ten-year-old daughter did not have cancer, but had started her period. They went on to explain that I had told people she had cancer so as not to embarrass her with the truth. In the end, everybody in our church knew that Leslie had started her period at the age of ten. I was a failure as a sister.
I am convinced that my punishment for this lie was that I would be thirteen before I finally started my period. It was an excruciating delay. I had no box to pull out of my closet, just the nearly empty box of Kotex that belonged to my little sister under the bathroom sink. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was the lucky one for starting late. Once I had the much-anticipated gift of menstruation, I was counting the days to menopause.
UPDATE: I wrote this story several months ago and shared it with my family. Everything really happened exactly as it’s written. Today, for my 52ndbirthday, my mother sent me a box. At first, I was confused by all the different feminine hygiene products that had been stuffed into the box. Then I saw “The Period Book” along with a note from my mom that said, “Are we even now?” The moral of this story is that if you complain long enough, you will eventually get your way. Patience is a virtue.
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