I was the last one to get her period at school.
I was 15 years old.
It was just me and one other girl left.
Everyone thought getting their period was a big deal, but not me.
I would cry when I felt it approaching.
I wish I were a boy.
I believed boys were stronger and their lives were easier.
I was disgusted by femininity.
I would dream of telling my father that I wanted to get gender reassignment surgery.

Whenever got a stomach ache, my friends would tell me,
“Go to the bathroom and check if you got it.”
And on my way back from the bathroom, I’d find my classmates looking out the window asking me if I got my period.
Not yet.
My class had 250 students.
They all got their periods except me.
They were all waiting for it. Except me.

I couldn’t believe it when I finally got my period.
I was convinced it was something else.
I didn’t tell anyone.
Until, however, my mother found out while doing the laundry.
“Congratulations!” she said.
“Don’t congratulate me,” I snapped back at her.
For several months, I kept waiting for it to stop coming.