So here's the results as I have mentioned. Please take the time to go visit my friend Becky in your virtual office in www.livingsexuality.com wonderful. She is doing a series of periods, the being and becoming a woman. A very nice series of stories told, and I have loved participating and reading. br I was one of the lucky ones. My mom sat me down before the big day of the surprise red wine, with the intention of giving me the big talk about my body and how it will change soon. br was a summer day, not long before my 9 birthday. I do not know if they were sent to quot; Good Housekeepingquot, or was at the dollar store or what, but it brought home nowyouarebeingawomankit, full: 1974 with a booklet full drawings women and their bodies (which looked nothing like mine), stories about what an amazing time and this is terrifying, a belt and belt less sanitary napkin, a tampon, instructions on how to use these elements and some really smelly goo gum Bonnie Bell lip (not sure what the inclusion of this last topic was about). br She sat down, looked at me with a sort of I'mSOmash sorry ohwhatbeautifulismylittlegirlwoman, and told me that my body would change. She said she would grow things like hair in funny places, breasts, and I would smell funny. She told me not to worry, that all women go through it, I was not alone. She taught me how to shave (which is a collection of horror stories from others) and be there to answer my questions. Then I sent to my room with my new kit of rules, to read and quot; jugarquot; things with my new woman. br Now something you should know about me is that I'm a gal reading instruction, have never been. I am a very visual learner and kinetic, tell me a story or show the movie and I'm all right. So there I was, in my room, unwrap each item, sniffing them, dipping the tampon in and out of his little rocket and the satellite phone, and so, explore what this new world was supposed to be. I tried on the belt maxi platform and thought it was just a glorified diaper that I think he had pooped in my underwear day of the week. The next (duh duh duh), the maxileash. br I pulled back the paper strip, exposing the sticky adhesive, and not to read the fine print, just stuck in place that makes more sense, my little patch barely old enough fluff, down there. Well, let me tell you, it feels good, or right. As a matter of fact, a sort of snug. quot; Ay. Ay ay ay quot;, I thought. I tried to pull him back, slowly, like a fat bandaid placed tenderness. That was not working. Tears running down my face I began to feel panic setting in The pouting lip trembling, the question of the mother through the door quot; You okay Quot; And quot; ahhhhhhhh, sob sob sob, no mom, it is not ! quot; I ran out into the living room, with guests, and my sister who loves to tell this story, and my motherroar in laughter. This was my first recollection of the trip with Aunt Flo. Pain, a total lack of natural ability to understand what happens where and how, and worst of all, the humiliation, the big moment. br So it makes sense that red has been my friend than my enemy giant crimson, almost all my life. Until last week. br about a month ago, visiting my doctor after having endured the chill of vaginal ultrasound wand, gave me the great news. What he had experienced: pain, cramps, mood, all repulsive odor, Dis not really understand why I put up with everything and this month was because my uterus had grown 5 significant fibroids one of the size of a large orange. She said I needed surgery to remove fibroids or remove it all together and Kaboodleutero, in short, the word H: hysterectomy. I feel like I've been waiting to hear the word from the first time the red thing had appeared in my underpants cute clean. br Two things happened to me that day. One of them, was given permission to feel like I was crazy, and know, and certainly now, that he had done something wrong there and I was just another woman who just needs Whiney up your intake of Advil , suck it up, and move on. No. something was and has been a mistake, apparently for a while. And two, I could let go. Get it removed. But for me this is much more than my uterus to let go. This is the abandonment of a lifetime of pain, sexual abuse, memories and relationships gone wrong. br Of course, I am also increasingly be releasing biological mother. There somewhere, perhaps somewhere you will grieve, but as far as I can remember I've never felt this force. There are many ways to be a mother in this world. Not having the equipment to get the job done to myself, that's fine by me. I am loosing the stories he told me, I'm letting go of the stories I believe I left that were not true. I am loosing a good portion of what has been a part of me all my life. Just because I liked or appreciated, not to say that I'm not crying it. I am, with joy in my heart, let go. br I do not know what the next stage of life seems, but I think I get me a new set of nonday underwear week, bleeding through them any more, and see what happens. br br
