I knew the time had come to say goodbye to my childhood when I first became a "Woman
". The day to me was somehow sad, a goodbye to all the carefree wonders of childhood that had floated me in bliss thus far. I changed on that fateful, crampy day. It's as if the weight and burden of my gender descended upon me in a fit of euphoria and raving madness until I felt no longer like myself, no longer like a girl, but a woman. A woman bearing responsibilities and manners and expectations and grief.
On my way to becoming a mother. Oh to be certain that I vowed to the heavens and platitudes of mankind that I would most definitely be a better mother to my daughter (or son) than my mother ever was to me.
On my way to being a wife. I vowed to the maker of romance novels and inept gestures of romanticism that I would be a better partner to a man than my mother was to my father.
On the path towards getting a job, a career, having it all. I paid tribute to the fearless women ahead of me who had risked much for incremental gain so that I might be a firefighter, a lawyer, a professor, President of the United States.
On my journey to carve a niche for myself in this vast, lonely world. A home, friends, a favorite path and routines I enjoyed.
On the direction towards enlightenment. What would the type of person I would be stand for? What causes would I rally for or against? What atrocities would bring me to my knees, open up my checkbook?
The damage of my ovaries cannot be undersated. Their assault upon my body was tremendous, bowled me over, knocked the wind out of me with its ferociousness.
Doubled over in pain and woe-is-me misery my mom smoked a cigarette, laughted and said "Welcome to the real world kid. Don't go getting pregnant now, you hear?"
I was 13.