This discusses womanly matters. So you may not want to stick around. Or you may want to and not learn something. And, after reading Fannie Frankfurter’s post titled Period., I decided to write my own post (clearly) and expand on my comment a bit.
Like many young girls who were largely raised by their grandmothers, my grandmother did not have The Talk with my sister and me and explain things.
We had names for our lady parts, but nothing that made sense like vajayjay or hoo-hah. Petunia Blossom was my grandma’s name of choice. She also referred to us, her granddaughters, as her Petunia Blossoms at times, so it was all very confusing.
This conversation between Monica and Rachel on Friends that I saw years later resonated with me for obvious reasons.
Monica: What?! I mean, I didn’t work this hard and-and-and lose all this weight so that I can give my flower to someone like him!
Rachel: Okay, first of all, if you keep calling it that, no one’s gonna ever take it. Then, second of all you’re not actually gonna have sex with him! You’re just gonna make him think that you are.
Back to the story. One day, I somewhat left the world of Petunia Blossoms and Daffodils and became a woman (okay, so I still didn’t know the proper words for quite some time, but it sounds better that way). Here’s what happened:
One day when I was 10 or 11, I was visited by Aunt Flo for the first time. Fortunately, this was shortly after I got home from school. Unfortunately, I was pretty darn clueless and as such, didn’t have a clue what was happening and thought I was dying.
“Grandma! Help!” I yelled while sitting on the toilet.
Grandma came in, gave me one look, and walked out, leaving me to die. Or so I thought. She came back in a couple minutes and was obviously prepared for this, as she handed me a pad. She told me how to put it on and that I’d be that way for about a week, so no swimming lessons.
She also told me this:
You can get pregnant at any time now.
Considering that I had a brother who was one or two, I knew what pregnant meant and was quite terrified. I would stay that way for about two years, until I took a sex ed course in middle school. (Is it any wonder I have anxiety problems?!)
The day I found out that I couldn’t get pregnant by simply breathing, I confronted my Grandma.
“Why didn’t you tell me that? I’ve been scared this whole time that I was going to get pregnant!”
She laughed. She had clearly overestimated my sex knowledge. Why, I don’t know, since she made us turn our heads when anyone kissed on TV. “No, you have to do it first. So don’t do that until you’re married. Or you’ll go to hell.”
Okay, then. To hell I will go.
And just because I typed vajayjay, I must include this: