“Yaaay! I have been bleeding for the past nine years of my life. Congratulations, uterus” I shouted on our way back to our tents…
“That’s disgusting!” said my brother.
No, that’s not disgusting that’s an achievement. Heeee! Periods=dramas and I have lived through each month from the 21st of December, 2006 with joy and sorrow and everything in between.
I remember my menarche like it was yesterday, okay that’s just a phrase. Vayo is reminding me…okay, she is also not helping, she says all she remembers is that I had to show her evidence because she didn’t believe that I could start before her yet I was older. Let me just say that am glad Vayo felt that way because it gave me this achievement feeling. Through me she learnt what pads were and I would have to explain everything I felt to her. Kutoka mbali nayo.
My aunty, the late Nancy, gave me my first pads together with the whole “you can now get pregnant so don’t let boys play with you.” talk. She also taught me that my periods were something discreet, that culturally they were a woman’s secret, no man needed to know. Up to date I still feel shy when I have to make people aware that my uterus is wringing the life out of me, like literally. However, I must admit that I like my periods as a discreet affair. You know, they are mine, my suffering of everything physical and emotional but also my celebration of womanhood. Honestly, I cringe at the women who do things like run tampon-less to raise awareness on the stigma associated with menstruation. Maybe the only reason I am writing so openly about this, apart from the fact that my cycle long changed is because such women give me courage to do so. In as much as I have my reasons for keeping cheriods as discreet as can be, them being disgusting is not one.
Okay.pose. time to rant. Why oh why do men think periods are disgusting like surely. This same blood (with less mucus, I agree) will come out of a finger and they will run to bandage and disinfect it yet because it comes out of a vagina it is the yuckiest thing on the planet? Empathy please. You don’t even have to handle it for those excruciating days, we are the ones who will be counting three hours and hoping oh! hoping that nothing has spilled lest you see us and think us careless. Okay, done ranting.
Where was I, aunty Nancy teaches me boy stuff and how to use a pad. My mummy had been away but when she came and heard she got me this giftbag of stay-soft (mmmmh gotta love those soft cottony things) and a card that said “I will always be here for you, ask me anything.”
And on that note, 21st December was one of those most memorable days and I look foward to making a private-ish celebration and comemoration of it all annually .
Happy birthday Ovary, Fallopian tubes, Uterus, cervix, vagina, vulva, brain and all the beautiful hormones, heck even the pubic hair. Your synchrony rocks, here’s to many more!
P.S: Am sorry I let the ovary take the show, y’all had to have a representative.