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The level of hate Kaur experienced from total strangers, even women, was especially shocking. The only way to change the stigma around something is to bring it to light ih create a conversation. Let people air their grievances so we can move forward. We need to educate people, especially young Sluts in north stainmore, nortg periods and why they are not scary, but normal. The best way I can see for me to affect change is Sluts in north stainmore starting a conversation, first by tsainmore my story. I encourage you to do the same in the comments.
I distinctly remember my feelings of panic and uncertainty upon first receiving my period. I was 12, and it was terrifying; although not in the gory, blood-soaked way you might imagine. As I squatted down to pee, I noticed a rusty stain in my floral underwear: My newly-pubescent brain started racing. I quickly removed my floral undies to examine the stain more closely, my only consolation being the feelings of denial that were quickly clouding my brain. The stain looked like a Rorschach Test that was telling me something about my body; something I was not yet ready to comprehend.
The next logical thing to do was wrap this newfound secret in toilet paper and stuffed it in the trash. After all, my mom did the laundry, and this evidence would be damning. I felt like I had lost something; this realization meant that I was different now. I could have babies, which was gross, and impossible to wrap my mind around. I envisioned myself with a big, pregnant belly; the image was nauseating, the concept alien. I was so young, and boys were still … ew. This was my secret.
I knew this would happen, and now that it had, no one could know. I never told anyone. It was actually 2 years before I told my mom, awkwardly stainmor brought it upon a ride home from the mall: My periods were always inconsistent, and rarely caused me any grief until well into my teens. Part of the reason I was able to hide them for so long was because they were light and infrequent; I barely needed a pad. Looking back now, I wonder where I got this idea that periods were meant to be hidden. Red deer move less warily since their bows dropped.
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We have eaten and loved and the sun is up, we have only to sing before parting: