 by Jane Tallman
I remember the exact day and place that I got my first period. I was 11 years old, it was Father's Day, and I was with my family at Kentucky Fried Chicken. My family was not chatty about the physical changes inherent in adolescence, but my mom had prepared me for this. She desperately tried to be subtle as she handed me a pad, hushing my loud exclamations over its complex inner workings. I remember being surprised, wondering why silence mattered in a girls-only restroom.
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