Anniversaries

I let yesterday pass without mentioning that October 27th is a special day for my rites of passage in to womanhood. These are two days that I don't think I ever discuss much, because really, why? Yet, I'm always a little amazed how both just happened to have occurred on an October 27th:

12 years old: I get my first period, and not being like Margaret, I'm less than impressed. I didn't get my second one until 9 months later. I thought that is how all periods should work: once every 9 months. Wouldn't that be grand. An important thing to note is I don't actually call my period but its usual monikers. I prefer to say, "george." It can be a verb, too, "georging." This started in 1990 when I was friends with this lovely girl, and it is what she called it, so of course, me wanting to be as cool as her in her plaid tights and totally punk hair-do, started calling it "george," too. I've never looked back. I have several friends who now use the same euphemism. George just seems so appropriate. In so many sexist ways. Sadly, I think I may be georging when I am in San Francisco, and that is totally wrong.


15 years old: got permission to go to our high-school's football game with two other friends of mine. Then I walked over to my ex-boyfriend's best friend's house. That's right. I've always been a terrible person. Started early, too. my friends discreetly left me there (I wonder what they did the rest of the evening?), and I have sex with this guy, TWICE, while his grandfather is making random snorting noises in the next room. The ex-boyfriend's best friend (EBBF) kept shushing me. He seemed horrified that I was making noise during all that sex we were having. He was very gracious afterward when he said he never had sex with a girl who could "move like that." Go me! Shortly afterward my friends came back by to pick me up, then we did some random violence on huge terra cota planters that were sitting outside of a grocery store. After we got that out of our systems, we went back to the football game just in time to be picked up by my parents. Ah, to be 15. Of course that is one of the last times I saw that guy, but that was ok with me. I was relieved I had gotten that pesky virginity problem out of the way. Also, he stole cars (Z-rocs I believe), and a judge made him move in with his mother who lived in Florida. I so used him.

As far as I can remember, no other October 27th has been particularly special. Yesterday certainly wasn't.