Period.

I remember the first time I found out about periods. I was 9, chatting with my older almost-cousin Adrienne, who back then was my gateway to adolescent knowledge. I was horrified, and spent the rest of that night going to the bathroom every hour, convinced God had chosen that night to punish me by turning me into a woman. He hadn't.

But a year later he did do me the favor...which just so happened to be a good 2 years before most normal girls. So that made for a fun couple of elementary school years. Not only was I four inches taller than every other girl, with a C-cup, but my stall was the only one that echoed crinkly wrapper noises. And those were the days before tampons...not because I'm old, but because I had neither the physical nor the mental capacity required to use one. As a 10-year-old, purses weren't an acceptable accessory, so I had to get creative in carrying my tools around. I've always kicked myself for wearing such boy-ish, baggy clothes when I was younger. But now I realize it served a great purpose, as it allowed me to get to the bathroom without people seeing the bulge of maxipads in my jean pockets. Worried about people being able to see that you're wearing a pad? No problem, just throw a flannel shirt around your waist! One day, when I finally mastered the use of tampons, one somehow fell out of my bag. When one of the popular girls pointed it out, I joined in, a little too loudly, with an "EW WHOS IS THAT." I will offer this piece of advice though: while on your period, do not wear white legging shorts on awards day.

But through the years, I've come to stop hating my period and actually fully embrace it. In fact, it's almost like a celebration. Sure, you feel gross for a week, but ahz not having a baby! So here's to you, period, ...hoping you'll stick around for awhile.