When I was young,
I used to love finding out about new things before the time was right.
We were at my grandmother’s one time,
When I saw blood on my aunt’s pyjamas.
I was surprised.
I ran to my mother in tears and told her what I saw.
When I was a kid,
Mommy would always tell me that God would only start judging me for my actions when I got my first period.
My slate was clean,
Because in front of God,
I was still a baby: clean and innocent.
But when I got my first period,
That was it.
We’d be the same.
I’d be a woman.
Grown up and aware,
And accountable for all my actions,
Just like her.
My stomach started to ache really badly.
I found blood.
I stuffed a lot of tissues into my underwear.
I burst into tears and kept crying for some time.
My mother eventually found my stained shorts.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
I didn’t know what to say.
We had never exactly been close.
I was having a hard time accepting the changes my body would go through.
I used to see how my mother dealt with her period,
And the blood terrified me.
I was afraid of getting it.
Most of my friends and cousins had gotten it.
I felt sorry for them when they told me the news.