WHEN IT CAME

If you're male you might want to skip this post. But if you don't and read on anyway, just remember you've been warned.

I developed really early in life. Although I was always the youngest in my class, I was usually somewhere towards the back of the line when we had to queue up by height. When I was eight years old, the nuns at school asked to speak to my mother; after their conversation, mom called me over and said, "We're going to have to buy you a training bra."

Then on the day after All Saints Day, just a few months after my ninth birthday, I got "It."

But I didn't know what "It" was, or that it even existed. I didn't know why my older sisters got strangely grouchy about the same time every month, or why there were these fat, puffy squares carefully wrapped up in toilet paper and discarded in the bathroom trash bin every so often. I'm also thankful I wasn't more curious than I already was, and opened up one of these packages (as I was tempted to do many, many times).

Of course I suspect if men got periods and I were a man, I wouldn't have been using the vague word "It" -- or any kind of euphemism -- thus far to describe this life-altering experience I had when I was only in the fourth grade. I would have used its proper term -- menstruation -- proudly, like a badge of honor or, perhaps more accurately, like the Purple Heart instead. And most likely there would have been a grand party thrown in my honor, much like I would have had a Bat Mitzvah at 12 or 13 if I were Jewish, to announce my coming of age.

So on the day after the religious holiday, I ended up staying home. It's because I woke up with what felt like stomach cramps, and of what I later saw in my underpants when I went to the bathroom. I felt really ashamed and embarrassed to see the dark brown stains. I was a big girl, after all, I wasn't supposed to be having accidents like this anymore. But I told mom and she agreed I should stay home (hurray!) lest it also happen to me in school. So before she left for work, she gave me diarrhea medicine and told me to rest.

Mom phoned me at noon to check on me; I told her the same thing kept happening and I couldn't control it, no matter how vigilant or careful I was. And worse, there was now a bit of blood I could see. I was deathly ill, I was sure of it (even if I felt otherwise OK). Mom paused; she was unusually quiet over the phone. And then she said she was coming home early.

When she did she took me to the bathroom, closed the door, and asked me to show her my underwear. It felt really strange having to do that -- like I had done something wrong and was forced to produce the incriminating evidence to hang myself with. But I did, of course, and then mom's face suddenly turned inscrutable. She opened the door slightly, and through the crack I saw both my older sisters standing just outside, waiting in anticipation for some kind of announcement or revelation.

"Yup, she has It," mom said quietly, yet with an edge to her voice. My sisters started laughing and went into their room. But I still had no idea what "It" was. Mom simply explained, "You know those packages your sisters make and throw here? Well, you're going to learn how to make one of those today." She opened the cabinet underneath the sink, and reached inside a plastic bag. Mom pulled out a long, fat rectangular cotton pad with what appeared to be a ribbon-like string attached to each end. Then she scrounged around the top drawer and found what I soon learned was a garter belt.

These were the days before Stayfree, and mom was about to dress me up like a junior Sumo wrestler.

Let me tell you none of my peers know what it was like before some genius decided to use adhesive strips to secure sanitary pads to panties. And none of them have any idea what it was like for a 9-year-old girl to strap one of these monstrosities on and try not to move, especially during PE class. Because if any of you ladies have ever worn even just a regular garter belt that fastens to stockings, you'd know they move around your waist and up and down your hips. So essentially, what I'm trying to say is that I used my upper thighs to keep the pad from sliding around most of the time. Otherwise, it would have gotten pretty messy.

It wasn't for another year or so that one day in class, the teacher wrote "M-E-N-S-T-R-U-A-T-I-O-N" on the chalkboard and asked if anyone knew what the word meant. Only two girls raised their hands -- me and Eva, the tallest girl in class. I don't know about Eva -- but I only knew I got it every month and nothing more. So it was on that day I learned why I had to bleed. The good news, however, was by then I no longer had to use the damn belt: adhesive strips now made it possible for me to walk without having to squeeze my thighs together and waddle.

I've got to admit my body matured way ahead of my mind. I had gone directly from a training bra to an A-cup (and then quickly crawled up -- but not too far up -- the alphabet), and was borrowing my sister's clothes (who was 15) because I could no longer fit into anything in the children's department. When I was nine boys almost twice my age were hitting on me (my guy pal Junie, who was 12, made it his responsibility to pull me away from boys who wanted to play with me but not in the same way I was thinking), and then soon enough I annoyed all my girlfriends with stories about my many crushes. I didn't know what my hormones were doing to me; I just thought I was strange.

Time zooms by, more so the older we get. In a little more than a decade I'll probably wake up and realize I won't be bleeding anymore. I wonder what that would be like -- not having to take inventory at the end of the month to ensure I have ample supply of feminine hygiene products at home for when I need them a week later. Or to remember not to wear white bottoms when I have my period, and to always have a pad or tampon in my purse at all times "just in case."

I can't think of anything else I've lived with almost my entire life. And every month, without fail, I curse its arrival, and all the inconveniences its presence burdens me with . That's a lot of cursing if you think of it -- especially for something I may very well miss when it's finally gone.

Comments

[bing]

when i had the 'it', i was 12 and a half. i was fully aware that it's called menstruation that time but it still surprised me when i saw for the first time those spots on my undies.

after i gave birth, the menstrual cramps were gone. the cursing was all about the PMS.

[BatJay, Ang Elvis ng Quiapo]

great post bossing. i love the way you wrote what could have been a gross topic. very subtle but funny and informative.

[bugsybee]

Montrosity is just the right word! But I suggest you ask around if somebody knows what a "pasador" is ... when I saw one, I was thankful for (to use your words) the genius who invited the monstrosity. I would have gladly hanged myself if I were asked to use a "pasador".
As usual, I enjoyed your entry!

[jayred]

I wonder how it feels to be dressed up like a junior sumo wrestler. Hmmm...interesting.

I had IT when I was 13 -- thank God, during the Stayfree days. :-)

Your post was a fun read.

[rei]

NINE?!?!? Gigi, that's kind of sad ... my mom always says she feels bad for girls who develop early because they're forced to mature early, just to keep up with their bodies. I got mine at eleven, and was always so pissed about it because my mom kept on bugging me to behave "properly" - at least when I had my period.

On the other hand, my mom warned me about it well beforehand. When I finally got my period, she was nonplussed because I ran straight past her to tell my dad all about it. Complete with gory details!

Thanks for this post - it really captures the feeling of that first time :D

[Gigi]

Hi Bing - My husband's thankful (or should be) I don't get grouchy during monthly flow time. A little weepy perhaps, but that's it. Still, I don't hesitate to wave the PMS threat when he starts getting kulit ("Hon tama na, I'm PMSing ngayon"). Amazingly, it works! :)

Sir Batjay - Phew, it's a good thing you didn't gross out. Or maybe not. If you had been, I could have boasted that someone was capable of making you flinch -- and it was me!

Hi Bugsybee - Thanks! I'm still trying to find out what a pasador is. Hubby said he thinks it's a "napkin" (feminine pad :) ). I think he's close but I'm betting it's a bit more unnerving than that. I'm calling mom to find out.

Hello Jayred - One day I'm going to have to ask you how to translate "It" into Swiss German, French, Italian, and Romansch (including all the different pronunciations that you wrote about). :)

Hi Rei - Your mom is so right. Seriously, I went through a period where I felt really isolated and different from everyone else, and was depressed for a while there. I did read an article once where there were studies shown to prove your mom's theory correct; it finally made me understand what I went through as a preteen. Your mom and dad sound so cool (also from how you describe them in your posts), I think all of you (plus freakchild, of course!) would make better reality TV than the Osbournes -- and I mean that in a truly complimentary way. :)

[Chiqui]

I got it when I was 11. Although I had been warned by my peers (Pilar said that her older sister Paula said "it's like peeing but you can't stop it"), I had no idea what to do. I wasn't even observant enough to notice them wrapped up in the trash bins. I threw the long used napkin (sorry to be graphic) into the toilet which of course, clogged it. My dad got mad at me. But STILL no one explained! Not til Ms Moran showed us those 50s black and white films during the 6th grade at the AV room. to think you experienced it years before most of us. You really must've felt alone & wondered what the hell was going on.

[rei]

Gigi - thanks! If we were a reality show, we'd be one of those dramedies - drama/comedy. Also, my mom is pretty cool with the medical info ... although it's a little weird when you're the only eight-year-old in class who not only knows all about sex, but can draw diagrams and refer to everything by their proper medical terms :D

At least you got to find out why you felt so isolated, even if it was much later on ... it's just too bad you had to mature so early. Although you realize that half the girls in your class were probably ENVYING you, when you all got to sixth grade ... "I just got my period!" and you, saying loftily, "Oh, that's nothing, I've had mine for a couple years now."

[Gigi]

Hi Chiqs! I don't remember those B&W films in 6th grade -- in fact, I never seem to remember any of the stuff we ever saw in the A/V room (including that anti-abortion documentary everyone else remembers!) Anyway, for years I hated going to school because I felt everyone thought I was strange or different. Like even now, when someone says they always thought I was nice, or always smiling, or close to the nuns (?!!!), I wonder if they're thinking about the right person.

Hello Rei :) Most of my classmates got it between 11 and 13 (a few even older). I really envied them -- because at that age many of them knew what to expect, and at the very least, they were able to share and compare experiences with their peers. But yeah, at that point I sometimes felt like the wise old woman on top of the mountain, dispensing advice (even brand suggestions). I've even shown a few friends along the way how to use a tampon!

[Nikki]

Got mine at eleven... and was immediately plagued with four older brothers demanding to know, "So how does it feel? Is it weird? Why does it make girls so CRABBY?" I had to find things out on my own just so I could ANSWER the spazzes I happen to be related to. Now, every month I'm happy to receive proof that my birth control is still working--but immediately after I get it, I just want it to be OVER. I can actually hardly wait for menopause, can you imagine?

[Gigi]

Hi Nikki :) - Really? See, I'm torn about that. On one hand I'm toying with the idea of taking that pill that makes you bleed only four times a year or something. On the other, I'm terrified of hitting - gasp - my menopause stage early. I think it's the idea of my eggs actually running out and of being really low on estrogen, and of what that signifies (i.e. getting old). :)

Hehe -- I think if I had only brothers, I would have totally taken advantage of being female. Like if I wanted to get out of doing something, or just get them out of my way, I'd announce "Period!" and that was it. Just the way I got out of PE when I didn't feel like sweating outdoors.

[Chiqui]

I strongly advise against the pill. Some will probably disagree but I was on it for a couple of years and it really screwed my system up. Just think - tampering with nature can't be good. My patterns changed after I quit, etc. Then I started reading about it and found out the risks (cancer) outweigh the benefits. More importantly, my sex drive totally took a dive and I learned I wasn't the only one -- thousands of women learned about this from an episode of Oprah. We all thought it was just us (dry as the hills) - turns out, it happens to 40% of women. so back to good ol' condom.