The older I get, the more I realize just how much I have to learn.  But this article is not about mental maturity; this is about physical maturity, if you will call it that.

When I was in elementary and secondary school in Nigeria, I always thought I was grown and sexy.  In fact, I could have sworn I was grown and sexy.  The boys in my school always liked me; I was not that light-skinned, but they called me ‘yellow paw-paw’, and the young men on my street assumed my name was ‘Chi Chi’ because in their limited minds, only Igbo girls were light-skinned.  It flattered me then, but I now realize it was ignorance on their part and mine.  When I was in JSS2, my French teacher told me he thought I was a little Chinese; apparently, I have ‘Chinese eyes’.  To be politically correct, this would be called ‘Asian eyes’.  I thought he was crazy for thinking I was a little Chinese, but when I came to the States, a few people said I had ‘slanted eyes’, and therefore hinted a little bit of Asian blood.  Well, I have asked my mother, and she is quite sure that neither she nor my father has any Asian blood in them.  Furthermore, she is also very sure that my father is my actual father. 

So I was pretty much at the top of the ‘grown and sexy’ list even though I was only about 10, and I put myself at the top of that list.  No need to discuss that I had no clue what sexy meant; if I did, I could have sworn it was a dirty word.  Everything was great.  Life was great.  I was sexy.  Life was sexy.  I remember how I always used to wear a ‘shimmy’ under everything I wore.  Thinking back on it now, I do not know why every woman in Nigeria felt the need to do so.  But I have to say that I wore the heck out of them.  I had the ‘long shimmy’, the ‘half shimmy’ (otherwise known as under skirts), and the ‘singlet (also known as vests)’.  My favorite was my white mini long shimmy; it stopped right above my knees.  Every time I came back from school, I would take my school uniform off and walk around in the shimmy. 

My God, I was on fire!  I was so hot that you could have fried a crispy chicken on me, and still had to use a fire extinguisher.  Yes, I was that hot – or so I thought.  Everything was going great.  Every day, I would put on my blue school uniform, sparkling white socks (which were now looking blue because I soaked them in ‘blue’ the previous night.  Remember ‘blue’?), and shining brown sandals (which my aunt sent from America, so you know that even increased my hotness level), and I would match out the door feeling too hot for my own good.  Sure, I had to trek to my friend’s house to catch a ride, but I was still hot.  As far as I was concerned, that only gave me ten extra minutes to show a few extra people just how hot I was.

I thought I had it all until things suddenly changed.  Without notice, I became the bottom of the food chain.  What happened, you wonder?  I’ll tell you what happened.  My friends started growing peanut-sized lumps on their chests and I did not!  Do you know how humiliating that was?  Night after night, I cried and begged God for breasts.  I told him to give me a little, just a little bit!  I had absolutely no breast at all; I did not even have enough to qualify for a training bra!  My friends complained that their ‘lumps’ hurt and itched, so I too started pretending that my invisible lumps hurt and itched.  I would kneel beside my bed, praying and crying to God for breasts.  I made all sorts of promises, if only He would give me lumps!  I would never lie again.  I would never insult my class mate.  I would never cheat in a test.  I would never use markers to draw on Ngozi, the house help’s face while she slept.  I even fasted for lumps!

Just when my lumps started showing and I thought I was back at the top of the list, something else knocked me off.  One day, my best friend, Uchenna came to school feeling down.  All day, she had her head on her desk, not really talking to anyone.  Finally, she revealed the reason for her downcast attitude.

“It came yesterday.”  She said to me.

Confused, I asked, “What came?”

“My menses.  And I’m having cramps.”  She whispered.  I neither know why she whispered or why we called it ‘menses’.  Today, I will gladly tell anyone and everyone about my monthly visitor, Ms. Flow.

“Cramps?”  I asked her.  I had no idea what cramps were.  Uchenna, on the other hand, knew everything because she had two older sisters while I had none.

I am ashamed to say this, but I was green with envy.  I knew that almost all of my class mates had been getting their ‘menses’, but it did not hit home until my own best friend started seeing hers, and mine was no where to be found.  I asked her what the pain felt like, but she could not really describe it.  She just wanted it to stop.  That night, I was back on my knees, praying, crying, begging, and promising to keep all the promises I failed to keep earlier.  Did I mention I was fourteen by this time?  I fasted some more too.  Everyday, I eagerly ran to the bathroom and pulled my underwear down, hoping for at least one spot of blood.  I even bought a pack of Simple Sanitary Pads.  Remember Simple?  It came in a bright yellow pack.  I only wanted it because my favorite aunt who was now married and living in America used to use it when she lived with us – although I had no clue that it was for blood.

Can you imagine how betrayed I felt by God when I found out that my friend, Isabella whom I was fourteen whole months older than not only had much bigger breasts, but also had her ‘menses’?  Isabella, on the other hand used Always pads, which I experimented with a few times – even though I had no ‘leakage’.  I prayed for my ‘menses’ and everything that came with it.  Yes, I also prayed for the cramps.  Without my ‘menses’, I did not feel complete; I did not feel like a woman.  It did not help that I was round and had low cut hair – not that I’m no longer round, but my hair is long now. 

I was fifteen when one day…voila!  A drop of red appeared.  I was so excited that I could have had a seizure.  So off I went to put on a Simple sanitary pad.  As soon as I put it on, I sat on the porch outside my house, feeling accomplished and complete.  I had done it all.  I was now officially a WOMAN.  I sat down confidently with one leg crossed over the other, chin held up high, and there was no stopping me now.  I waited a few hours to go and change the pad; I was sure it would be full and almost pouring out by then, but to my greatest surprise, there was nothing!  I cried.  And cried.  And cried some more.  The next day came, and there was still nothing.  Where did my drop go?  My mother explained to me that it was not ‘regular’ yet.  Ms. Flow disappeared until I was sixteen when she reappeared and has continued to do so every twenty-four days.

These were the big stumbling blocks I faced in becoming a woman.  The little stumbling block was being teased for having too little hair.  I am not a hairy person, so if I shave my underarms, the amount of hair that will be there after a month would probably be as long as the one a regular person has kept for only a week.  I used to think it was a problem.  Now, I am grateful for it.  But once upon a time, I begged God to give me more hair.  And do not get me started on begging for pimples.  That is a story for another day.

After all has been said and done, I now realize that Ms. Flow did not make me a woman.  She only made me fertile.  Everyday, I realize that the day before, I knew less, and as I grow, I continue to learn.  I am a woman today – I think.  But tomorrow, I will be more woman than I am today.  Needless to say, I no longer beg, pray, or cry, or fast for lumps, hair, pimples, and Ms. Flow.  But I especially do not ask for any shape or form of cramps.  Been there.  Done that.  Do not ever want to go back there.

Robot  # 1 | 07.08.2007 02:31

I thought I had it all until things suddenly changed. Without notice, I became the bottom of the f...Read the full article.

Soul Sista  # 2 | 07.08.2007 08:30

Vera: Interesting. I hear you gal, I hear you. Long time no read. Kilode now? We vex you? How is Everywoman going? Soul Sista a/k/a Soul Sizzling

Mikky jaga  # 3 | 07.08.2007 08:35

Thanks for sharing your experience with us. It is quite revealing. Your experience tells of what many teenagers pass through that lead them into dangerous experimentations that in turn lead to disasters. The only companion you needed at that growing stage was your mom. Unfortunately, she was hardly mentioned at all. If mothers would be close to their daughters at this transition period (that word again) of their lives these adolescents would have less problems becoming adults. But, when all they learn about being a woman is from their friends and classmates (even house maids) they are likely to be misled. Mothers, be alive to your responsibilities, it is a duty you owe to your daughters.

Soul Sista  # 4 | 07.08.2007 08:51

=Mikky jaga;197951>Thanks for sharing your experience with us. It is quite revealing. Your experience tells of what many teenagers pass through that lead them into dangerous experimentations that in turn lead to disasters. The only companion you needed at that growing stage was your mom. Unfortunately, she was hardly mentioned at all. If mothers would be close to their daughters at this transition period (that word again) of their lives these adolescents would have less problems becoming adults. But, when all they learn about being a woman is from their friends and classmates (even house maids) they are likely to be misled. Mothers, be alive to your responsibilities, it is a duty you owe to your daughters. M-J: Majority of Nigerian mothers are alive to their responsibilities. Sometimes, the mothers just don't know how to talk to their daughters about these kinds of issues. Or they live pursuant to a moral code that dictates that anything to do with the female body is "sexual" therefore, a young girl should be told as little as possible. They don't know how to walk that tension line. So, when you get your period, instead of having a relaxed discussion about it and why, you are told in a monologue that you must not play with boys now and that if you move near boys, you will get pregnant. End of story! A friend of mine who used to get horrible cramps could never show any sign of pain or get pain relievers because her mum's policy was that nobody else must know when you have your period, especially men like her brothers and her father. It took coming to America for college to get her very bad dysmenhorrea (sorry for the spelling) fixed because of her mother's discomfort with such things. Now, they joke about it. Some girls don't even hear the period talk before they get their periods. They just get them and for days they are afraid they've done something wrong until they muster the courage to say they have a wound there. And, then the mothers are shocked that their baby girls have become women o! You will be surprised if you get a group of women together to hear what they have to say about hormonal changes in puberty and the discussions with their mothers! We have to find a way of reaching mothers (and fathers, my father was involved in my adolescent talks and I love him for that although mum took the lead) and helping them to get the message across. Also, educated and exposed parents who know that they feel uncomfortable should not hesitate to read up the way in which to have these discussions using widely available resources. If you did not like the way your mother introduced you to puberty, chances are that your daughter won't like it too. Find a better way. There is no excuse now with so many resources available. Soul Sista a/k/a Soul Sizzling

lionking  # 5 | 07.08.2007 09:28

Vera, Great article! You had me in stitches. @ Soul Sis, we had quite a few aunts and older female cousins visiting/living with us when I was a kid. I guess my mum must have done a good job of keeping all info bout Ms. Flow suppressed because I only discovered her in Form 2 biology class.

Wale Adeniyi  # 6 | 07.08.2007 10:35

What a great teenage diary! It is simply a passage into the minds of an average gal.

Just mii  # 7 | 07.08.2007 11:53

My mother never spoke to me about puberty but I learnt from school. Till date, I'll forever be grateful to Procter and Gamble, the company who produces Always Sanitary Pads. It was when they came to assemble every girl in my secondary school and taught us A-Z about Ms Flow and entertained heart-burning questions from girls, that I got to know in-depth about it beyond what Biology and Integrated Science teachers taught me. As at then I was yet to start to seeing Ms Flow, though I wasn't bothered then (though my best friend made it a personal prayer point at vigils). Honestly, as Mikky and Soul Sister had said, Mothers should primarily be responsible for letting their girls know. Since I learnt outside my home, till date I find it very difficult to let my mother know when I'm seeing it, though I would have loved to rub minds with her. I had seen it several months before she knew accidentally. Really, if not for good upbringing, I could have fallen into any pitfall if I had learnt from wrong sources. Not that I'm blaming her or being bitter, I have only resolved that if I ever become a Mother to daughter(s), I won't shy away from this responsibility.

Celebr8  # 8 | 07.08.2007 12:09

Vera, thanks for sharing... Brings back memories! And funny enough, a couple of friends and I were talking about our transformation from girls to women. One of my friends told me that it was her dad who gave her a frank talk about everything; the birds and the bees...everything! My mum, who by the way is very outspoken and certainly not shy could not bring herself to do the puberty 101 lecture. I was lucky though, because I have two older sisters and my immediate older sister would read everything and anything that had writing on it and by the time she got her period, I bet she could have lectured my mum about Ms. Flow! And I remember being so desperate to grow boobs...sooooooo desperate! Now that I think about it, I just shake my head and laugh. My desperation was so much that when I heard that a certain insect that burrows into the soil could work the magic, I went searching all over our compound for it and when I found some of the insects, I captured them, ran to the back of the house and proceeded to try and get the insect to bite my lemons - and transform them into melons! Did they work? I really dont know... but several years down the line, I'm saving money for breast reduction:D:D:D On a more serious note, I think parents ought to be bolder...if your kids dont hear it from you, they'll hear it somewhere else and there's lots and lots of misinformation out there. For instance, I remember reading somewhere that a girl lost her virginity at 13 because her friend told her that it would cure her menstrual pain. I count myself as very lucky because between my older sisters and older brother, I was quite well informed. My older brother taught me how to defend myself in case of incasity, he gave me lots of tips about going to parties - always make sure you have a back up ride home so that if your date gets frisky, you're not stranded etc etc...and when I heard the horror stories of date rapes, boy, was I glad to have a big brother who cared!

emj  # 9 | 07.08.2007 18:47

After all has been said and done, I now realize that Ms. Flow did not make me a woman. She only made me fertile. Everyday, I realize that the day before, I knew less, and as I grow, I continue to learn. I am a woman today – I think. But tomorrow, I will be more woman than I am today. Needless to say, I no longer beg, pray, or cry, or fast for lumps, hair, pimples, and Ms. Flow. But I especially do not ask for any shape or form of cramps. Been there. Done that. Do not ever want to go back there. http://library.adoption.com/Parenting-Girls/All-About-Menstration/article/6622/1.html hmmmmm................well watch out for Menoupause.....later. http://www.cwhn.ca/resources/faq/menopause.html

Oluwato  # 10 | 07.08.2007 22:36

Vera, Nice write up. Thanks for sharing your past with us. I can relate to that 'yellow paw paw' slang. A few even called me 'Oyinbo pepper'. I was grateful when the sun "tanned" me. On that woman thing, no sweat. You were a woman from birth jare. The Hebrew definition of woman did it for me. Ishshah is the Hebrew word for woman which means "womb-forming man". From conception it was determined what you were. All the other societal definitions are by the way. On some level, I feel for you, every 24 days... that means sometimes twice per month. You are a strong woman, Blessings always. Oluwato.

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