WARNING: I advise all men to STOP READING NOW. This topic will not interest you at all. Trust me. I’ll try to write about football or jock itch or something equally manly tomorrow…
Lotus at Sarcastic Mom wrote a very funny post that I had no choice but to read after seeing the title: When I hated both my vagina and my mom, simultaneously. Go ahead, you know you’re going to click…
I started to comment about my own story, but as we all know how long-winded I am (and how in much in need of a post) here you go:
My sister was one of those crazy girls who was happy. She was so thrilled she called my Dad, “Daddy! I’m a WOMAN!”. Dad says my stepmother handed him a drink and a chair before she’d let him hear the news. Both were apparently needed.
I, on the other hand, had the proper please-just-let-the-earth-open-up-and-swallow me reaction. I didn’t think thoughts of, “I am now a WOMAN! Hear me roar!!!” I had thoughts of, “I’m going to feel like THIS every month for the next 40 years? And I can’t go swimming (in those days that was the prevailing wisdom)?!?!? This sucks!!!!!!!!!!”
When my Mom suggested I call my Dad I declined with all of the thirteen-year-old newly hormonal disgust I could convey. My Dad tells me he wondered when he didn’t get a phone call, so he checked with my sister when I was seventeen to make sure it had indeed arrived. He asked her instead of me to save me the embarrassment.
I won’t have to go through this with Son, thank goodness.
But, then again, there’s nocturnal emissions.