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| LIES |
It's fine. It's coming. I can tell. From my bloated, anxious stomach, to the insatiable craving for anything sweet, or my zero tolerance for the tiniest of dick heads, it's only a matter of time. That crimson wave is about to get surfed.
But - seeing as we're sharing - this is not my first rodeo. I've been aware of the joys of periods long before they bothered my existence. This is partly due to a mother that informed me of such matters, as well as a slightly older next door neighbour who would give me her used copies of Just Seventeen and My Guy when I was in primary school. I had a working knowledge of all sorts of grown up things like pubic hair and french kissing, long before they featured for realsies in my life. And so it was with menstruation.
The book that I'm plugging at the moment is the story of a girl in top Juniors. She knows periods are a-coming. She ponders them now and then, and wonders when that day will be. I don't think I've made her talk about the whole shebang more than is normal. I think - when I cast my mind back to that time in my life - I thought about periods the same amount that she does. They're on their way and she knows it. She wants them to start because they herald adult status, but she doesn't want them to start because of the classic 'what if I'm in school?' nightmare or 'blood on jeans in public' scenario. Standard stuff, I think. Timeless concerns for the ages.
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| Leeza has a LOT to say about all sorts of stuff. |
When adult friends have asked me if this book is suitable for their youthful children, I tell them yes! But then I add that a working knowledge of puberty might be advantageous. Not that it really matters, I suppose. Like my discreetly stashed copies of Just Seventeen, children learn about life from all sorts of places their parents have no clue about. And that's as it should be. One sign of growing up is losing the need to get your parents to OK everything you know and learn. So whether it's Just Seventeen's problem page, Judy Blume books, or some dodgy website that they really shouldn't have stumbled across in the first place, kids find out stuff from all kinds of places. Unlike the dodgy website however, nothing in my book could be described as adult content. But for the less informed reader, it might raise questions. That's a good thing, I'd say.
But we're getting sidetracked. Worrying about the age appropriateness of period chat in a children's book is a waste of time. Periods are a thing. They exist. It'd be inappropriate NOT to refer to them. As you read this, 800 million people are simultaneously experiencing the joys of monthly bleeding. Fun! With numbers like that, I don't understand why we're not talking about periods in every single conversation. (Some people would argue that I do!) And I'm sure it goes without saying that boys need to know this stuff too. I think we've worked that out now. No longer boys topics and girls topics, whispered secrets passed on amid nervous, single-sex giggles. The PSHE curriculum is fairly robust, thank goodness. Everybody learns everything, regardless of personal biology. It's the best way. Hopefully it means the days of an adult male friend putting his fingers in his ears and la-la-laaing over me as I tell him I'm feeling below par because of period pain, are coming to an end. (True story!)
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Rubbish cramps aside, I am ludicrously lucky. A throbbing stomach, nagging lower back pain, and an intolerance for idiots is nothing considering my advantageous circumstances. I have a bathroom. I have a home. I have money to buy sanitary towels, Dairy Milk and Solpodeine Max Strength. In terms of those 800 million people currently bleeding, I'm winning.
For some time now I've been a fan of Bloody Good Period - a charity that donates sanitary towels to refugees. It's brilliant on several levels. Mainly because it meets the most basic of hygiene needs for those that have the most basic of finances, or even showering facilities. But it's also easy to donate - via Amazon. Just a few clicks, and it's sorted. Because I'm a lazy cow that needs things made as simple as possible, this suits me enormously. If you think it suits you too, check them out. For the tiniest of efforts, you get to be helpful. It's hard to argue with that.
So as I sit here and await the arrival of this month's #bloodgate, I recognise that if this is all I've got to deal with, I'm doing OK. I'll send Bloody Good Period some packs of Always and I'll crack open the sharing bar of Dairy Milk. And whilst I won't technically be sharing it with anyone, I'll mentally pass it around my 799,999,999 fellow perioders, and thank my lucky stars I get to cosy up in clean pyjamas, in a warm house, with everything I need for the duration.
Have a lovely week, folks.
In related news, I enjoyed reading this article. It shares euphemisms for menstruation from around the world. My favourite is the South African one - Granny's stuck in traffic. It's all I'll be saying as soon as I come on. Don't say you weren't warned.
For some time now I've been a fan of Bloody Good Period - a charity that donates sanitary towels to refugees. It's brilliant on several levels. Mainly because it meets the most basic of hygiene needs for those that have the most basic of finances, or even showering facilities. But it's also easy to donate - via Amazon. Just a few clicks, and it's sorted. Because I'm a lazy cow that needs things made as simple as possible, this suits me enormously. If you think it suits you too, check them out. For the tiniest of efforts, you get to be helpful. It's hard to argue with that.
So as I sit here and await the arrival of this month's #bloodgate, I recognise that if this is all I've got to deal with, I'm doing OK. I'll send Bloody Good Period some packs of Always and I'll crack open the sharing bar of Dairy Milk. And whilst I won't technically be sharing it with anyone, I'll mentally pass it around my 799,999,999 fellow perioders, and thank my lucky stars I get to cosy up in clean pyjamas, in a warm house, with everything I need for the duration.
Have a lovely week, folks.
In related news, I enjoyed reading this article. It shares euphemisms for menstruation from around the world. My favourite is the South African one - Granny's stuck in traffic. It's all I'll be saying as soon as I come on. Don't say you weren't warned.
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