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I was at my family’s cabin at the lake with my older girl cousin and her friends. I knew about periods but I was 9, so when I went to the bathroom and realized I was bleeding, I thought it was something wrong with my stomach.
I called my mom and she also didn’t consider that it was my period and just told me change my underwear. My cousin handed me a pad and explained how to use it and it finally clicked that I started my period.
My first period started when I flushed my toilet and saw a sea of blood trickling down the toilet pan. In all honesty, it had been the day I was waiting for. I clambered up the stairs to tell my mum the good news. I’ll never forget the shock on her face. Then the question came, “have you popped tissue in your knickers?”
“Yes, mum.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Huh? No mum.” And then with swift action, mum was in her period drawer handing me her sanitary pads.
11 year old me did not know what was in store. Turning into my school gate, I remember wondering whether I should tell anyone. No other girl had spoken about it before, so I decided to keep it to myself. As the school bell rang, I was quietly led away by the school receptionist and taken to the “teachers” toilet.
“Your mum called to tell me you are maturing into a little lady, Petrina.”
“Yes Miss,” I cried.
For the first time, I felt embarrassed and anxious. What if I bump into one of my teachers? What if one of my friends notices me entering the teachers’ toilet? I was too scared to speak, so I just nodded to every question that was asked.”
My secondary school years were filled with memories tinged with embarrassment: pulling my school jumper far over my bottom to hide pads the size of warships, confused about pains and shying away from PE, wanting to leave class last because of leaking onto chairs. I knew nothing and didn’t want to ask about what was happening to me. I was a hormonal ball of shame with a lack of acceptance.
My first period arrived wretchedly during my first-year German trip, 30 minutes into a 17-hour bus journey. Too embarrassed to tell a teacher, I layered up tissue which would run out halfway through the journey.
My friend lent me her jumper to tie around my waist as I had on unforgiving beige cargo trousers (I promise they were fashionable, but you can guess what happened).
I spent the whole week (my first away from home and out of the country) sleeping on a towel, scared to wear shorts on the hot sunny days, and praying that there were toilets on day trips. It wasn’t a healthy way to manage a period, but I could not bring myself to ask help from an adult. I want to give that little girl a cuddle!
