I got mine on my 13th birthday in France.............I'm not making this up. I wish I were. It was horrible. I did not know how to ask for maxi pads in English let alone French! I had to rely on my manwhore cousin who was acting too put out over having to house me and my family for the week.......I wound up with these HUGE pads that did not bend.......and this is only a SMALL FRACTION of the rest of the memories of that first period...........ugh

----Maryam

I was on IM with my friend Leah, and then I had to pee and then I wiped myself, and then I saw what I thought was discolored pee and then I called my mom, and then she came into the small hot bathroom with me, and I showed her, and she told me what I feared – I had my period. “Did I really get it?” I kept asking, not realty believing it, sort of sad about it. “When will it be over”?

---JCP

The day my period first arrived I was 10 years old. I was vacationing with my family at Lake Ripley in historic Cambridge, Wisconsin – a tradition that has continued every summer for as long as I or anybody can remember. Surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins and friends alike, the imminent arrival of my new friend caught me by surprise. It appeared one morning as I trudged down to the gravelly sands of the beach, almost as if it knew it would ruin a good time, as it wouldruin many good times throughout the years. Embarrassed and slightly panicked, I did the only thing I could do. I sprinted straight into the water and stayed there all day. I had heard that your period would stop in water, and being that my mom was away shopping for the day, no one really took notice of my all day soak. When my mom finally got  home, the sun was setting and my lips were turning blue. When she  found me I was in near tears, but of course as mothers do, she made  everything right again with a hug and a piece of chocolate cake.

---A.E.Perkins

My friend Susie's mother threw a Period Party in 6th grade.  Susie got her period before all of us, so in our minds, periods were about femininity and love and the start of a journey towards motherhood.  We got to paint our nails and put on fancy smelling lotion, and her mom made us tea and we ate cookies.  When the party was over, Susie and her mom sent us away with full bellies, nail polish, and craving for our periods to make us feel older, wiser, and loved by our mothers. 

I was thirteen when I got my period.  I was in the 7th grade.  I was in the stall next to a window in the middle school bathroom when I became a woman.  I didn't know what to do-- laugh or cry.  So, I just sat their stunned, looking down at my panties and my changing body, changing life.  I quickly stuffed toilet paper into my panties and then ran out of the bathroom, to the nearest phone.  I called up my mom, so happy that I was finally entering into adulthood! 

My mom laughed and told me to forget about it and go back to class.  She told me about I get to suffer once a month.  I hung onto the phone, desperately wanting her to tell me that she'd bake me cookies and teach me how to love babies, and paint my nails and invite my friends over for celebration.  No, all she said at the end of the conversation was, "Now you can use your monthly allowance of $5.00 to purchase tampons."  

When I got home, she had left the money on the table with a note:  "If you're old enough to have your period, you're old enough to walk to the grocery store and get them.  Love, Mom."  I stared at the note and the money and felt the cramping in my body.  I took the money, walked to King Soopers that was 10 blocks away, and then cried in the Feminine Products aisle.  There weren't even any female cashiers that day.  I cried all the way home. 

I didn't feel much like a woman that day.  I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and I wished to stay a child.  I wished I was a boy.  I wished I was anybody but who I was.  I wished I was Susie McDay.

---Rosia

As a fifth grader at Holley Elementary School, every student, male and female, is forced to watch a movie about “coming of age.” So, there we sat---a room full of females, forced to watch a movie about how fantastic womanhood and sexuality would one day be for us. I can remember one rather odd scene in great detail: A mother and daughter begin to make pancakes for breakfast. The mother, knowing her child is a visual learner, creates a “pancake” in the form of a woman’s uterus. She then begins to explain to the girl menstruation-and uses her masterpiece as a guide. What the rest of the movie developed into is a blur-a memory of how I was introduced to womanhood, and a sudden distaste for pancakes. 

It wouldn’t be until about three years later, at the tender age of thirteen that I would get my “friend.” At that age, I was awkward and uncomfortable with my body. I sported a short haircut, braces, and humbly accepted the nomination as vice president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. Having girlfriends was a complete nightmare, boys started to become mean, and adolescence was taking its toll.

In a gauche attempt at making myself “cool,” I purchased a mini skirt. It was cream colored, with turquoise paisley print. It was quite possibly the only skirt, or item of clothing that went above my knees, found in my closet. I sat in English class staring at Mrs. Pilato’s ankles, thinking about how I would look at the age of fifty, in a mini skirt and ankle fat rolling over my shoes. As I sat there, I noticed that something about my body-specifically my abdomen, felt ill at ease and uncomfortable. After class I went into the bathroom to investigate the unfamiliar situation. On my underwear, there it was blood, blood that had come out of me! I thought to myself, “Oh, man, this is it? This is what the big deal is? This is what makes me a woman?  I’m bleeding and I have a feeling that my uterus is going to fall out?” I had never been happier to be in a skirt, however. Had I been wearing pants, the blood surly would have soaked through; thus creating quite the humiliating experience for me. My mother had sent me to school that year prepared with maxi pads, just in case. I went to my locker, got one out as discretely as possible, and went back to the bathroom. I held the gigantic, puffy pink package in my hands and began to feel almost excited and proud of the fact that I was now a woman. Then I placed the pad in place and all initial moments of excitement vanished. The pad felt like two pairs of rolled socks stuck in my panties-and I wondered if the bulge could be seen through my tight, short skirt. The rest of the day, I sat in my blood, thoroughly self-conscious and completely repulsed by this completely new experience. 

After school, I walked down to the Middle School, where my mom worked. I met her in the hallway, and told her what had happened. I’m not really sure what reaction I was expecting, or hoping for, but the one I got made me uncomfortable. My mother smiled, and congratulated me. I feared she was going to go tell her co-workers the “good” news, or possibly rent an airplane with a trailing banner that read “My Daughter, Katie Hamm, Is a Woman!” What followed was a giant whirlwind of hugs, and talks about safe sex. At the age of thirteen, baby-making was the last thing on my mind. Menstruation had proved disgusting enough, and the thought of a human growing inside me made me squirm. 

The following few days would prove to be trying times. Maxi Pads were completely out of the question, and I wanted to use tampons. My mother explained to me how a tampon gets inserted, and so I tried, and tried, and tried. Now, when a young girl has never shoved anything up her vagina, a long plastic device is rather intimidating. How hard should I push? How far up do I go? Am I in the right hole? This went on for some time. I remember being in tears because the thought of having to sit in my blood repulsed me. One day, in a bout of pure frustration, I did it. I just shoved it on up there, and the deed was done. A beautiful lifetime relationship with Kotex had begun.

That is how I recall becoming a woman. A mix of emotions, and uncomfortable events, that has left me looking forward to menopause. Oddly enough, the whole event never once made me think of pancakes. 

---Katie

14 years old, and it hit.  I sat on the toilet yelling, "Mom, Mom!" When she finally showed up, I opened the door just enough for her to enter the bathroom.  While in the bathroom she crawled on the floor, looking through the cupboards, searching for a pad.  Well, she frantically searched and searched and could not find me a pad. Desperate, she handed me a tampon.  Everyone says tampons aren't for first timers, but I had no choice.  (Well I guess I could have let the fun drip down my leg)  Oh, and did I mention my Mother only had the super fatty tampons?  Yes, that's right.  She handed me a "dill-pickle" sized tampon and explained to me how it worked and then instructed me to put it in.  She left the bathroom and I began looking for the elusive whole from which this whole mess originated.  Ok, soafter a while of searching, poking, and prodding I yelled for my Mom, again.  I explained to her that she must be crazy because "I have no hole down there."  She laughed.  I cried.  With her standing over me, I made a second, third, and fourth attempt to no avail.  My frustration was mounting and she was getting a little huffy as well. Out of options, I layed on the bathroom floor, spread-eagle, while my Mom inserted my first tampon into the hole I didn't have.  And would you believe, I still use the same "dill-pickle" sized tampons to this day?

---Jennifer

At the age of 12, I got my period. I was at home with my older brother and he had just awoken me to get ready for school. I went to use the restroom and after doing so I wiped myself with tissue and it was RED!! I screamed because I didn’t know what it was and my brother ran into the bathroom and he looked into the toilet and started panicking. My mom was at work, so he called and her said “Ma, Shayla got her period what should I do?” She started laughing and said “Go get her a pad out my bathroom.” My mom had those long super absorbency pads and I had to wear one of those to school, plus I had to wear oversized sweatpants and a large shirt so that no one could tell that I was wearing such a large pad. After getting through the day at school, my mom picked me up from school and took me to Walgreens to get my own box of pads. There were so many products. I remember wondering what would work best. I really had no clue, and my mother would not buy tampons.

---Shayla

I am fifty years old, and I remember my first period, at age ten, in 1967.

Although girls were more sophisticated than their mothers at the same age, no one was expected to start menstruating that soon.  My mother, a nurse, had already explained periods to me so that I would not think Mars was attacking when it finally happened. 

But the one who saved the day was Dad!  It was a Sunday, and many cities observed blue laws then.  That is, stores were closed on Sundays.

Mom stayed with me to help me sort out this new happening, and it became Dad’s task to get me provisioned.  Mom’s tampons were not suitable for a menstruating ten year old.  I no longer recall how long it took Dad to do the job, but it didn’t seem very long before he walked in the door with a brown bag containing a napkin belt and napkins, and I was in business. 

To this day, I do not know whether he found a nearby municipality with relaxed Sunday laws or a friend who could help out. 

I kind of like the mystery, and I’ve never asked.

---Pamela

It was the day of my 12th birthday. i was sitting in the living room with my parents and my older brother when all of a sudden i felt these horrible pains and felt like i had to pee. when i went to the bathroom, i started to cry and i screamed extremely loud, i had no idea what was happening to me, and i thought i was dying or something along the lines. i mean i was in pain and bleeding. so  my mother came running from the living room and like to have busted down the door and she asked me why i was screaming nad crying and when i told her to look into the toliet she started to laugh at me and she ran over and hugged me and told me that i was growing up. she had me call up my older sister, my aunt darlene and my granny faye and tell them the news, like it was soemthing to be extremely proud of or soemthing. thats when i realized that i was growing up, that i was no longer a little girl but i was becoming a woman slowly but surely. yes it freaked me out at first and scared me, but growing up comes with alot of situations that are goin to freak you out and scare you. its a part of life.

---Julie

Every year my church youth choir went on a week-long tour, singing at private concerts and church services. We usually traveled several hours a day by charter bus in order to reach the farthest corners of the earth - exotic locations like colonial Williamsburg and Zip City, Alabama.

Regardless of our location, we were ninety-five junior high/high schoolers, so we had a blast. We tortured kids who were foolish enough to fall asleep. We locked chaperones in the bathroom. We sang songs and played car games and learned the ever-changing rules of Mow. 

Spending seven hours a day on a bus wasn't so bad, that is, until the summer of my seventh grade year. Despite the fact that the bus bathroom was horribly disgusting and the ever embarassing moment of every supercool senior sitting in the back of the bus, who would inevitably see you walk into said disgusting bathroom, I really had to pee. Or at least that's what I thought. Upon arriving in the jolting, jostling bathroom I discovered, to my horror, that my panties were soaking with blood. Now we're not talking about a little trickling or dribble, we're talking full-fledged rushing torrents of menstration. Of course I had not prepared for this moment. 

I had no tampons (not that I would've known what to do with one); I had no pads or panty-liners. All I could find at this moment, this moment of pain and shame and bewilderment, was toilet tissue -that rough, generic toilet paper that is commonly found in gas stations and supermarkets. I wadded it up and tried to secure it to my underwear. No luck. Then my moment of brilliance. No, I didn't think to ask one of the female chaperones for a tampon. No, I didn't remember that there were thirty other girls on the bus, one of whom inevitably would have had a pad. My brilliant thought was to wrap the toilet paper around the bottom of my underwear, the part that actually touches your, um, you know, creating more of a diaper than anything else. Pure genius. Now remember I'm on a bus,  riding along for another three hours before we reach the mall (our lunch stop). Please also remember that toilet paper is not meant for long-lasting absorbancy. Khakis and a bus full of teenage boys.... not a good combination. The shame will live on forever.

---Elaina

It was the summer of 1992. I had just passed the fourth grade. I was as normal and healthy as a kid could be, outside playing with my friends most of the time, practicing gymnastics every day, riding my bike and having sleepovers.

They say the day of your first period is the day you turn into a woman. Being as though I wasn't even a teenager yet, I had no idea what a "period" was. A friend had told me about how sometimes females bleed from "down there", but I thought it was nonsense and didn't believe her. 

On July 3rd of that summer, I had my eleventh birthday. It was a beautiful summer day, bright and sunny. Neighbors were barbecuing outdoors, kids were playing kickball, and it seemed an exciting day. It was all the more exciting for me, because I knew I would very soon be making a birthday wish, blowing out candles, eating cake and ice cream, and of course, opening presents.

I went with my mom to the grocery store to pick up some food items for the birthday meal she was preparing. I told her I'd be right back and headed for the rest room. I went inside and resumed my normal bathroom business. When I sat down, I noticed a red stain on my underwear. It sent a wave of panic through me, as though to say, "This is the scary thing that happens to females your friend was talking about!"

I rushed back to my mother. I told her I had to go home because I was having bathroom problems. We hurried back to the car. After getting inside, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I started crying and panicking, saying to my mother that I think I had gotten "that period thing." Being 11 years old for less than one day did not exactly qualify me as being old enough to know what a period was...they never taught us anything much about it in the fourth grade. 

My mom took me up to my room, and got out a box. It had a little pamphlet inside, and samples of tampons and pads. She read the pamphlet out loud to me, and it

said things like, "Today you are a woman". Naturally being only 10 the day before, I freaked out. I thought this meant that I could never practice gymnastics again, that my days of being a kid were over, and that I'd basically have to grow up to be an adult now. I didn't want anyone to know. 

Later on that week, I had gone reluctantly to the restroom to change my pad while a friend was waiting for me outside the room. Not quite familiar with the routine yet, I had put the old one in the trash, and being that the trash was full to the brim, I stomped it down with my foot. After finishing and washing my hands, I went outside again with her. We were walking down the sidewalk to neighbor's barbecue, and suddenly, my friend grabbed my arm, and pointed frantically to my shoe. There was a half-unwrapped pad stuck the bottom of it in plain view! I panicked,

went upstairs and buried it in the trash. She witnessed the whole thing and laughed. "It's not funny!" I told her. "How would you like it if you were the only one on the block who has a period?" I was almost crying. She laughed again. "I was the only person on the block with it, but not anymore!" she said.  Suddenly, after hearing that, I calmed down, and began to laugh with her. I wasn't the only one after all.

Needless to say, all of my assumptions about having my period were wrong, and fortunately so. I learned that I could play sports just as easily on my period than

not, I could just as easily go outside and play with my friends, and that I was still the same healthy kid. Eventually I got used to it. I realized a few years

later that every woman gets their period eventually, and that there is nothing to be ashamed of. I did however learn not to stomp down the trash with my foot after changing feminine protection products.

----Amanda

I was 13 and on on a short vacation with my 3 younger sisters,  mom and dad, sharing one hotel room. I went to the bathroom and saw blood in my underwear. I sat for a few minutes in shock and confusion. Then I called out to my mother. She came into the bathroom, looked at my underwear, said something like "Oh, you got your period".  She left the bathroom to get me some clean underwear and I heard her gleefully announce to my sisters and my father "Anne is a woman".  I was so embarrassed, and felt sad and alone.

---Anne