i call it the PMS Special: dreyer's dreamery new york strawberry cheesecake ice cream, kotex ultra thin maxi pads, advil and the WB. except it's not really pms, because pms is the period before this period. pun intended.
no, this is the time we're supposed to not talk about, the pain we're supposed to pretend we don't feel, the emotions we're supposed to prevent from affecting our day to day. there's not even a convenient name for it, so we use silly code phrases like "my aunt flow came to visit" and "i'm riding the crimson tide."
"what's wrong?" they ask, seeing us crouched in our chairs, clutching our stomachs, washing two advils down with a swig of water.
"it's that time of the month," we say, shooting a knowing look. blush.
i was 12 when i got my first period. on summer vacation in the philippines. i had gone to the bathroom during breakfast and noticed that something was very different. i called for my grandma and told her that i think it happened. "you know," i whispered in her ear. "it."
it was supposed to be a secret. but later on that day, my aunt came to visit and we were sitting in the living room when she leaned in and said, "so i hear you have become a woman." i thought i'd die.
i used to be embarrassed. i'd bury my trash in the bathroom waste basket so my brothers wouldn't see and i'd always try to choose the female cashier at the drugstore to avoid assumptions. but now, oh now, i have no shame.
i walk up to the counter, dump my stash on the counter and smile right back at the boy at albertsons. i look at my watch to see what time it is. 8:48pm. oh good, i think. i'll be home just in time for felicity.