Starting

Starting
It was the day of the re-release of Star Wars.
It was cloudy, and I remember feeling down
before I understood that was just hormones.

I remember standing in line outside the theater,
waiting.

That night, mom sat on the corner of my bed and told me it was part of being a woman.
Becoming a woman.
Growing up.
What if I don’t want to be a woman?

My stained Haines Her Way underwear soaked in the blue plastic dishpan in the laundry room sink.

Some girls in my class couldn’t wait for bras, make up, shaving.
A friend used a tampon just to try it.

Me? I was terrified.
Legs spread,
gripping a purple handheld mirror
while I tried, and failed, to insert it.
What if the holes on the diagram don’t look like mine?

The blood
not red
more like light brown rust

The cramps
The clots
The backaches
The tears

This thing
They call

womanhood.

 

Allison Harden, 33, San Diego, CA