When I was younger I would never tell anyone that I was having my period. I was soo embarrassed. I wouldn’t even buy my own tampons. Not to mention the fact that I wouldn’t ask my dad to buy me some if I didn’t have any, which eventually led to a horrible incident in high school that included a rugby jersey tied around my waste and my seat in science class smeared with blood. I chose to go through a day of absolute agony instead of just saying “Dad, can you buy me some tampons?”

Now it is a completely different story. I will tell anyone who is listening that I am bleeding. “This is why I am acting like a weirdo” is written on my forehead. That or, “My uterine walls are shedding,” or “I have really bad cramps.” I have a sandwich board and a bell adorned with psycho faces and pads. “Hey, everybody!! It’s my lady time!!!! I have a bloody vagina!!!!” I scream in the middle of a busy bus stop.

I remember the change: the precise moment when I went from denying my aunt flo, to embracing her and all her glory. I remember the day well… I never bought my own tampons until I was 18. I asked my mom to get me some and she refused,

“You’re an adult now, Meghan. Go buy them yourself”

What a bitch. I started to cry and got really mad, telling her that she was “so mean” for making me go to the store and embarrass myself like that. She said “tough” and I was off to Macs to do what I never ever wanted to do, tell a complete stranger that I was having my period .

So there I was, holding a box of Tampax regulars, hating my life more than ever, waiting in line at the convenience store. I prayed to Jesus that no cute boy from my high school would walk in the door. I shuffled my feet, got really sweaty, looked at the ceiling and the floor, and never made eye contact. Finally it was my turn to pay. The transaction occurred with no issues, the tampons were in a plastic bag and presto! I was out the door. It wasn’t actually that bad. I was stunned. The sun shone on my face, releasing my fears and inhibitions with the crisp fall wind. It was over. Until next month…

Since that day almost 10 years ago my period has become not an embarrassment, but a joke. I’m not going to be a flake and say that it’s empowering or that I’m glad I have such a gift because I think getting your period is lame. Cramps suck, mood swings are evil and staining my good underwear makes me angry. Period blood is gross. Sometimes I wish I was some underweight model or a gymnast so I could halt the bleeding, but that would be too much work in the gym and not enough time with food.

Now buying tampons is nothing. I’ve been at the cashier with tampons, condoms, and a pregnancy test and didn’t even blush. Weird combo, I know, but hey, if I wasn’t pregnant then my period was a-comin’ so I thought I’d be prepared. Nowadays I’d rather buy tampons than a James Blunt CD. At least I still have my dignity with the former.

I guess with age comes an acceptance of the gross, embarrassing, and sometimes bloody parts of ourselves. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be able to take a shit in a public washroom, but I doubt it. But that’s a whole other issue.

-Meghan Matty