Would I have to start planning outfits around the tattoo like I plan for weather?
Wait, so everyone doesn't want their mom to throw a huge party with mylar balloons the second they get home from school early because their uterine wall is shedding all over their new Victoria Secret bikini briefs? Really?
I for one would have LOVED to have a big-ass First Period fiesta as suggested by Menarche Parties R' Us a group of "moms that have created an exciting way to celebrate a girl’s transition into womanhood," whose goal "is to take the pressure of mothers and daughters when it comes to talking about menstruation."
They've got two packages: the Puberty Party for young ladies who have yet to get a visit from Aunt Flow and The Menarche Party, which is a celebration for girls "in transition." Both come complete with festive red and white paper plates, invites to your "Girlhood to Womanhood" celebration, pin the ovaries on the uterus games and so much more.
Is it weird that I think this is amazing?
There was no fanfare the day my body shed its past. When I first got the period I'd prayed for for YEARS, I felt a little like Sansa Stark. "I just thought it'd be different." Instead of instantly transforming my body Hulk-style, all it did was make me incredibly self-conscious and light-headed.
I was so disappointed I didn't even tell my mom. I just toughed it out and swiped some of the tiny panty liners she kept under the bathroom sink. I thought they were pads. Yes, I spent the first few months of my period career constantly "checking" myself.
After about six months of me complaining of "stomach aches" that lasted a week, Frances cut the bullshit. "Helena, I know." I was so relieved. She gave me a hot water bottle, some tea and money to buy real supplies. But we never had a talk like the one Clair Huxtable had with Rudy.
"I will not have my children running around thinking they can't go to the beach because they'll attract sharks," says Clair as she plans for Rudy's "Woman's Day" celebration, a fake TV family tradition that I've stored away in my mind for later.
Girls giving each other stupid advice
How many anatomically absurd things did your friends tell you about your period and sex? Would spraying an angry can of coke up your cooch stave off pregnancy? Could a tampon "de-virginize you"? Did swimming with the crimson wave stop your period all together? Yes, yes and yes according to gang of nerds I rolled tight with.
For whatever reason, my mom thought I was way smarter than I actually was. And instead of deprogramming me all at once with an awesome party for my burgeoning womb, I had to piece together the important stuff myself with key questions asked at the dinner table like, "Sooo liiike, how have I not bled to death? Also, can you please pass the goulash?"
So I say let the girls eat cake! Sure it's temporarily embarrassing to have a party for a natural function of your body -- i.e., "Your First Nocturnal Emission! Wow-Wee!" -- but what's the alternative? Seriously, I'm already planning my imaginary daughter's "Woman's Day Celebration of What's Happening With Your Insides" which will include but not be limited to a scavenger hunt, a huge steak, "Waiting to Exhale," and a pop quiz.
Is that creepy helicopter parenting or just common sense? Tell me about your first period, ya'll. Was there a parade? Or just a lot of Pamprin? Do they still sell that?