This November marks 21 years since what was for a while the worst day of my life: the day I got my first period. I was a competitive swimmer, fit and just shy of turning 11. Not one of my friends had gotten their period. The books all said it was at least another year away.

My body did not care about the books or that I was an athlete. For generations women in my family have gotten their first periods just before turning 11. My mom was out that fateful evening leaving me to have to tell my dad. Oh horror of all horrors. We were both embarrassed. In an effort to focus on something else, my dad kept bringing up that the bowl of Campbell's vegetable soup was getting cold. I was mortified and hadn't a clue what to do. Wanting desperatly to believe that the red stain in my underwear was a figment of my imagination or at the very least from some sort of scratch that I must not have remembered, I hopped into a friend's mom's car to carpool to swim practice. It really didn't get any better from there. I nervously asked the mom in private if the pool water would turn red. Fortunately she assured me it was okay. Unfortunately my friend and her brother knew that something big and juicy was going on and kept pestering me to find out what it was.

Coincidentally, my Catholic school had arranged the "puberty field trip" for the next day. We went to a center with anatomically correct male and female manequins whose various organs would light up while the purpose of each organ was narrated. More horror. While my mother had provided me with carrying pads when she got home the night before, I didn't know what to do with them. No, I knew how to use them, but since no 5th grader carried in a purse, I had no way of discreetly carrying pads with me. My mother shoved them in a brown paper lunch bag and covered them with Kleenex. I told everyone I had a really bad cold.

In hindight, that may not have been the most well crafted disguise. Most people who are sick enough to need an entire paper bag filled with tissues have a chapped, red nose. In fact, they are generally too sick to go on field trips. I was as healthy as a horse. In my defense, it wasn't solely my hairbrained scheme; the chaperone and my teacher were in on the secret and thought this was a good plan. Whether it fooled anyone or not, no one said anything. The day ended, time has passed, and I now find the story hilarious. I am less amused by the fact that my mother gave me KY jelly for tampons and told me it was for women's personal use two years before what sort of personal use was most common. Not even 19 years can make that KY jelly recollection hilarious, but time has softened the memory enough for it to elicit a couple of chuckles.

So why the trip down memory lane? Suzanne Reisman, BlogHer Feminism and Gender Contributing Editor and owner of Cuss and Other Rants and I are co-editing an anthology on period stories entitled Congratulations, You're a Woman Now! We are inviting women to submit stories about their periods. Although the original concept
focused on soliciting stories that felt embarrassing when they happened
but became funny in hindsight, the stories do not have to be humor
stories.

The website, http://www.youreawomannow.com/,
provides all of the details and some sample topics. We are interested
in stories from people of any age, cultural, national, or religious
background, and sexual orientation. While the focus is obviously on
women, men are also welcome to submit meaningful period stories about
their daughters or other loved ones. The deadline is Sept. 1, 2008.

Alex Elliot blogs at Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting