Friday, August 31, 2007


Saturday, December 19, 1987: I was in seventh grade, and I was feeling miserable. This didn't seem unusual; it's hard to be 13, in the first year of junior high, and not be miserable. It had been a rough semester so far; for weeks I'd been locked in a secret competition with the most popular girl in my class to see who could go the longest without repeating an outfit. No one knew about this contest, including my competitor, which did give me a slight edge. But she was so good at never repeating an outfit exactly, that I was forced to wear some pretty embarrassing ensembles just to keep up.

On this particular morning, however, I felt unusually uncomfortable, and teary, and awful in a more-than-the-usual-teen-angst way. And I really really had to go to the bathroom. 5 of us shared one upstairs bathroom, and eventually I got my turn.

"Mom!" I called.

I'd gotten my period. This was exciting and all, but mostly I just wanted to die. We were supposed to drive to the new mall that had just been built a mere 20 miles from where I lived. How could I walk around the mall with my family in my new condition?! I went downstairs and lay face down on the floor, trying disappear.

Then things got worse. My father came up to me and patted me on the back, saying, "Congratulations!" I decided to never get up again.

Have I mentioned that I'm the daughter of a minister?

The next morning, at the fellowship hour after church, I was putting in my obligatory face time amongst the throng of faithful Presbyterians, when my mom's best friend spied me from across the room.

"Sarahlynn!" She ran over to me and clasped me in a big hug. "You're a woman now!"

Shockingly, it got even worse from there.

"You know," my mother mused, "you were conceived exactly 14 years ago. December 19, 1973."


The theme for the STLBloggers Blog Carnival this month is "What is/was the most important/significant day of your life?" I decided to follow in my elder daughter's footsteps and get all literal with it.

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