Growing Pains.
By the age of 13 I had concluded that I was going to grow up to be a man. What led me to this conclusion was the fact that unlike the rest of my female class-mates I had not experienced my first period. While my friends blossomed in to women who menstruated with great regularity I lay awake at night nervously knowing that it was only a matter of time before my voice broke and my balls dropped. As far as I was concerned this was a major handicap and as with all handicaps there were reminders of it everywhere.
Every other morning one of my dorm mates would wake up and gasp that her period had started. We referred to the monthly cycle as ‘chums’ and someone or other was always going on about their ‘chums’ and the accompanying ‘chum cramps’. They would merrily interrupt hockey practice to inform us of how bad it was, holding their sides and doubling over with pain. All the other girls would be most sympathetic because they all knew what it felt like. As everyone crowded around offering advice on how best to deal with the situation I would try to be part of the gang nodding my head and parroting anything that the other girls said.
Why don’t you sit down Nancy you’ll feel better.
Yes Nancy sit down – sit down at once. I chirped.
Is it your second day? That’s always the worst.
Yes the second day – the second day is the worst, the very worst! This was news to me but I wasn’t going to let on.
Does anyone have an Asprin or a Disprin?
Why any of us would be carrying pharmaceutical drugs to hockey practice was beyond me but the girl asking had big tits and probably started her chums at the age of 4 so I followed her lead.
Yes god damn it does anyone have any Asprin or Disprin – can’t you see Nancy is in pain?! Help us please!
Oh how I longed to be one of them! How I longed for the cramps and aches and pains and bloating and all the other inconveniences that went along with having my chums. I was so curious about it all – how bad would these ‘chum cramps’ be? Would I be able to handle the pain? What did the whole thing feel like? And most important of all why was I being singled out? WHY?
Eventually I turned to God. I promised her that if she granted me the gift of my chums, unlike the weak-minded ninnies I was surrounded by, I wouldn’t complain about any of it, I would bear my womanhood with pride.
Then there was the other thing about having your period – the boobs. All I ever wanted for Christmas or my birthday were big boobs. I had wanted these since I saw Gloria Gaynor on the cover of one of my dad’s LPs. I knew that somehow my missing period and boobs were connected. During bath time I would gaze admiringly (and as covertly as possible) at the girls who had breasts. I would compare how their towels would lift gloriously where mine fell flat. I would be rudely jolted out of my reverie by the sharp voice of one of the seniors I had been staring at.
Radhika Vaz! Eyes off deck!
I would mumble an apology and then skulk away to contemplate my poor, flat-chested, immature frame in private.
My curiosity soon turned in to a full-time obsession and I could think of little else. In math class as Miss Sharada waxed on and on about integers and rational numbers and polynomials I wondered if perhaps she had her period. She certainly had breasts that she kept hidden from view by wearing three cardigans and then wrapping her sari around her like a cape.
Radhika Vaz! Look at her – sitting there staring in to space, day-dreaming as usual and not listening to one word I have said! You will fail your test again. Stupid, lazy, insolent girl. Go stand outside.
And so it went.
I finally decided to end my unhappy state of affairs by doing what I usually did when I wanted something and couldn’t have it. I began pretending I had my period. I had done this all my life – pretending to have brothers, sisters, friends from foreign lands, exotic pets – so why not pretend I had my period. I set about the task of picking the dates of the month I had my period on and I would make it a point to visit the toilet a few extra times during those days just because that was the right thing to do. This got boring after a bit and pretending to myself was no longer enough. I needed to somehow make it clear to the rest of my peers that I was one of them. But I had one major problem – I had none of the accoutrements that went with womanhood, namely the sanitary towel or STs as they were referred to by those in the know.
Most girls in my age range had a package of these things that their mothers had given them ‘just in case’. My mother probably took one look at me and knew I would never get my period and so she had not bothered with this. Thus I didn’t even have a package with which to pretend. I thought about putting some of my precious pocket money towards the purchase of some STs but it was a massive investment and I needed my money for food. Things were looking decidedly bleak until one fine day my friend Preeti informed me that she needed to store some things in my suitcase. She was going on a week-long trip and needed her suitcase empty. One of the things she wanted to stash was a packet of Comfit Sanitary Towels.
On the totem pole of sanitary pads I knew that Comfit was the least desirable. They were the cheapest ones and the packaging was tacky and old-fashioned looking. And my mother used them. As far as I was concerned my parents were the litmus test for uncool and so anything they had or did was automatically struck off my list. I would have preferred that Preeti had relegated a packet of Stayfree or Carefree to my care – these were better brands for the modern-day woman. But I wasn’t going to be fussy so I grabbed all her stuff, told her not to worry about a thing and rushed to my dorm to stow everything in my bag. Everything except the sanitary pads, these were left on display in my locker for all to see. I will say one thing for Comfit – what it lacked in brand appeal it more than made up for in flash. Unlike its more conservative sisters – Stayfree and Carefree – the packaging was anything but subtle, bright yellow with little blue flowers, it positively begged for attention.
Much to my disappointment no one paid any heed. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. Did people congratulate you if you had your period? Or was there some kind of secret hand-shake or password that one was given after you came of age? I was hoping for some kind of acknowledgement but none was forthcoming. I spent the next few weeks inspecting the pads, the accompanying belt to keep them in place and the diagrammatic instructions on how they were to be worn. Eventually I used the pads during one of my pretend periods. Lucky for me Preeti never asked about them and that was that.
The term ended and I went back home. My holidays passed uneventfully and soon it was time to go back to school. At the time my parents lived in a far flung, incredibly remote place called Hashimara and so my dad was given the task of escorting me to Calcutta which was where I would board the Coromandel Express for a three day trip to school with all the other kids who lived in the North-Eastern part of the country. It was on our arrival at Calcutta’s Dum Dum Airport that I discovered I would not be growing a penis. Yes dear reader – I had started my first chums!
I knew of girls who had wept with fright at the sight of their first period but I was positively jubilant. I was relieved and excited and giddy with joy when suddenly it dawned up on me that the only person I had to share this good news with was my dad. With no STs and no money of my own I was going to have to enlist his assistance. The horror of this realization quickly turned to fury against my stupid mother. It was all her fault. Unlike the other mothers who had clearly thought all this out mine had basically left me hanging out there to fend for myself. Damn her I thought darkly, damn her to hell. I sat there with my undies around my ankles plotting my next move.
First I had to stem the flow as it were and so I made do with a pile of toilet tissue the height of the Eiffel Tower. Then I shuffled back to the terminal hoping that by the time I came face to face with my father I would have some idea of how I was going to broach the whole business. When I got there my dad was leafing through a newspaper with one hand and stuffing a mutton samosa in to his face with the other.
Pa.
There you are – where the hell were you? I got hungry.
My – periods have started.
A long silence ensued as my father thought about this while simultaneously consuming the rest of the samosa.
Did your mother tell you anything about this?
No but I know everything I just need pads.
My father has a face that is either incredibly expressive or incredibly dead-pan. Today he was dead-pan.
Excellent – then come with me there is a chemists somewhere around here.
We went along to the chemists where he nodded to me indicating that I should pick out whatever I needed. This was the moment I was actually glad I was with my father and not my budget conscious, bore of a mother. She would have surely forced those disgusting Comfit STs upon me. But with my dad I was free to choose and so I went with Stayfree. Two packages please.
I spent the next few weeks in a state of unimaginable ecstasy. My body had taken a big step in the right direction. I discovered that I was one of those girls who never suffered chum cramps or bloating and not just that but my chest showed some signs of swelling – very, very tiny signs for sure but signs nonetheless. Life was good! But as with everything in life the moment something starts to go well you can be sure something will happen to balance it all out and I realized one side effect of my chums I had not accounted for. Body hair. The stuff had been coming in for a few years but now it was getting positively luxuriant. And to my horror this was probably one area in which I was far ahead of my class-girls – and some class-boys as well. This realization brought me right back to square one – was I a man after all?
Radhika, I SO enjoyed reading this! Fabulous!!!
Chums! Hilarious and much nicer than Aunt flow.
Now, that was funny – period.
how many moments you faced alone rads, i can read between all the funny stuff… love u n ur inner strength
absolutely bloody brilliant…and incredibly funny as always:) pls pls keep writing
Nice one Vazie!
Fantastic – i laughed and laughed – this was all so familiar…
[...] was not developing at the pace I was hoping it would. I had no tits and no monthly period (read http://radvazblog.com/2010/08/11/growing-pains/ for details) and I had decided that this – like everything else that was bothering me – was the [...]