A Woman Now
A short story on womanhood.
December 6th 1999, is a cold day on the playground.
Fairbank Wood middle school on McLaughlin road is full of energetic kids. I am not one of them. I am eleven years old and in grade six. My easy, carefree, nonchalant life is about to get complicated.
As I put on my snow pants, I move slower than my peers. I do not feel well. My stomach hurts and I feel tired.
As I make my way outside with the rest of my classmates I suddenly stop when she comes. She being the one thing that every girl has prepared for, but is never really prepared for.
Large green metal doors with silver handles, cold against my hands as I push the door open and run back inside. Unsure of where to go I run through the slippery slush filled hallways, past the wall of art work, and up the south staircase.
“Mrs. Robinson”; the sign reads, on my health teacher’s door.
I bang on the door.
Mrs. Robinson answers with a smile.
“Mrs. Robinson I think I got my period!” I shout.
“Slow down, Jollene are you okay?” She gestures me to come inside.
I am only eleven. Every other girl in my family gets their period in high school. I’m scared, in pain, slightly embarrassed, yet I also… mature?
The images of a uterus, private parts and reproductive systems go from background decoration to in my face graphic pictures I cannot take my eyes off of.
“Jollene, do you remember some of the stuff we talked about in class? This does not have to be a bad thing. I know you’re scared but you’re a woman now.” Mrs. Robinson explains.
The smile on her face does not match the expression on mine.
I’m a woman now? What does that even mean? So many thoughts flood my mind.
Mrs. Robinson hands me a small kit as we walk to the washroom. The kit contains a pamphlet on menstrual cycles, a pad, and a tampon. Mrs. Robinson coaches me from outside of the stall.
“Make sure you fold the pad wings under your underwear.” She whispers.
Wings? A pad has wings? The only wings that exist in my world are on angels or bugs; I have a lot to learn.
I slowly open the bathroom stall door.
Mrs. Robinson’s asks me how I feel, if the pad feels funny, and I have any questions.
I don't answer any of her inquires.
As we walk back to her office, I think to myself “I am a woman now”.
