I was 11 when I got my first period.
It was the 9th of January, 2011. And it’s interesting why I remembered this date in particular.
I was in Math class, solving the root of equations and learning about parallelograms. My stomach grumbled. Well, it was almost lunch break, but today’s grumbled was unbearable. It was almost as if doing Math has made me burnt through all the 200 calories I consumed in the morning in the form of rice and pulses with mashed potatoes.
Too hungry to do math. Too moody to eat. I can’t recount ever feeling ‘moody’ before that day. My classmate came to the rescue. It was her birthday, and she called upon me to accompany her to distribute the chocolate candies to everyone in the school. I was overjoyed that she picked me for the honour, and more so as I got to skip class.
My stomach was out to embarass me. It let out an audible groan, very audible to everyone within a radius of three meters. My classmate let out a chuckle, turned to me and asked, “Are you okay? Should we still distribute these candies or would you benefit more from five of these?”
I meekly told her that it’s not that big of a deal.
After reading an article, while on my period, I learnt that PMS can lead to a significant drop in your serotonin levels, the happiness hormone in humans.
I have autism, which comes bearing gifts. I am very sensitive to textures and fabrics, mostly how they feel on my skin. Everytime I go to sleep, I have to make a burrito with my mink blanket so that my thighs don’t touch the cold, cotton bedsheet underneath, no matter how high the thread count.