JUST PERFECT. PERIOD.

 I draped the red fleece blanket over the back of the "fancy chair" in my living room.  I set up a standing tray next to the chair to hold the gifts. I clipped greens from a fir tree in our yard and arranged them on the glass-topped coffee table, interspersing red votives, aflame.  I prepared white chocolate hand-dipped strawberries on two white platters to add to the table.  

Saturday was a special day for the women in my family -- my granddaughter, her mom, her aunt, and me, her grandma. We gathered to acknowledge and celebrate my sweet granddaughter's first menstrual period.   

First, where did the years go?  And why does this have to happen to girls so young?  I guess I still think of her as my little girl.  But she's not "so young"; in fact, she is right on target for the average age for this to begin.  She and I have been talking about this occasion for some time, as her body has changed in ways signaling the event was soon as hand.  I asked her if I could have a special Family Dinner when she got her period.  "Grandma!  NO!"  We laughed.  Then I asked if I could do a little party for her with just her mom and aunt and me.  She agreed, if not joyfully, also not reluctantly.  She mostly seemed puzzled.  So, this has been on the back burner until a month ago when I got a Messenger text from her -- "I've got some news Grandma....I got my period."  As with most things, she took it in stride, saying she was neither excited nor mortified; "just neutral, I guess."  

I knew I wanted to mark this life transition in a positive and supportive way for her.  We have no cultural recognition of this occasion in the U.S.  I looked it up.  The internet is full of "rituals and customs" from around the world, but totally silent here.  We don't publicly celebrate what happens naturally when kids transition from childhood to puberty; instead, we find ways to tell kids they're growing up by what they can "do" -- get a driver's license, vote, drink, etc.  These are age-related milestones that totally ignore the inner turmoil raging in changing bodies and minds. 

I thought there must be a better way.  We gathered in my living room.  I explained that our intention was to celebrate this amazing life-affirming/life-giving event with joy and laughter, with story-telling, advice, information.  The women of the family told their stories of first periods which had been couched in embarrassment, secrecy, and scant information or instruction. I wanted to do it differently.  We were breaking the pattern of loneliness, confusion,  embarrassment, and silence. We were speaking out, with honesty, emotion, joy, frustration, and encouragement.  My granddaughter took it all in, asking occasional questions, smiling, listening, laughing with us, and being totally composed and engaged.  Her maturity was a thing to behold.  

After we shared our stories, meandering into birth control and pap tests, the latter of which my granddaughter found most appalling of anything she had heard!, I read short blurbs of cultural rituals from around the world, ranging from community parties for the girl in which everyone she knew was told, to girls being banished from the family for the week of her period.  

In the Native culture of the Ojibwe people, a young girl is forbidden to eat strawberries for the first year of her periods.  During this "berry fast" she focuses on personal growth, sitting with and learning from her elders during the week of her periods.  At the end of the year she breaks her "berry fast" and is seen as a leader among her peers.  I especially wanted to include this to also honor my granddaughter's half-Native heritage.  After our time of sharing and "learning from the elders", we all dug into the white chocolate strawberries!  I'd not made her wait a year -- only about 2 hours.  

We ended with each of us telling the honoree what we love and appreciate about her, then offered her a "blessing" saying what we hope for her at this time of her life.  We all acknowledged her generosity, kindness, humor, compassion, and creativity.  And we all wished for her to find her assertive voice in the world, to love and appreciate herself, to know how special she is and never doubt or denigrate her own unique qualities.  And we pledged ourselves to her, letting her know this is an ongoing conversation, not a one-time thing.  As her aunt said, "We've got your back." She took all this in with a smile on her face, never breaking eye contact with the speaker, with a calm composure far beyond her 12 years.  Can you tell I'm so proud of this bright light in my life?

We adjourned to more snacks, waiting for the men to return with her little sister for a pizza supper together.  That's when she and her mom revealed that there had been some trepidation coming into this unknown "thing" Grandma had cooked up.  My granddaughter had told her mom she hoped I wasn't going to do some "voodoo" thing to her.  LOL  I guess I must have freaked her out just a wee bit last summer when I engaged her assistance in doing a "sage smudge" of our camper to "banish the bad juju" I felt there.  Was it when, engulfed in wafting aromatic smoke, we chanted, "out with the evil!  in with the joy!"? Whatever....LOL

There was no Voodoo on Saturday, only the joyful connection of the sisterhood of women in my family.  She messaged me later, thanking me, saying she loved all the love and support.  Just perfect. Period.

At least, that's the view from here...©

WALMART AND PUBIC STYLES

First, I'm very, very sorry I went to Walmart yesterday.  It was a moment of weakness which prompted me to add $10.12 to the considerable coffers of the Walton family when, yes, there were other store choices relatively near by.  It was a moment of weakness for convenience and curiosity.

I was parked about 100 yards from the big new Walmart Super Store while (speaking of greedy little fists)  I stopped into the Verizon store to check out the rebate offer on my "old" (2 years) I-Phone if I got the new I-Phone 6.  (Decent offer, but I can't get a new phone until December when my current contract runs out with Verizon, or pay a huge penalty, and don't worry, he said, the "6" is on back order anyway and you wouldn't get it until November….  Sheesh.)

So, when I left Verizon, shopping list in hand, I realized I could get all the items I needed right over there at that new Walmart.  Plus, I'd see if it had the ugly, crowded, poorly lit decor of the others I'd ever been to, or whether it was an upscale version that actually felt welcoming and attractive while it exploited its employees and foisted cheap merchandize manufactured by children in Third World countries into the waiting plastic shopping bags of True-Blue Americans.

I needed to buy a pillbox, one of the twice a day 7-day plastic things that had trays large enough to hold all the supplements my Grain Brain book said I should be taking to ensure health and happiness well into the next decades of my life.   I am a terrible pill-taker.  Hub, the doctor, calls me "non-compliant."  I just hate taking pills and I always forget completely or I take them and then forget if I did or I didn't so I don't in fear of overdosing, which means I skip lots of doses…it's an ongoing struggle. So I thought I needed this container.   Also I wanted a funny birthday card for Son-One, and a can of "lady" shave cream.

It was this last that gave me pause.  I realize the pink-topped "lady shave" is likely the exact same shaving cream in the black containers sold to men.  But I just feel more feminine using the shaving cream from a pink can, which is a new-ish thing for me and one that I'm sort of exploring with bemusement.

I sometimes think I just don't know how to be a girl.  I don't know "girl stuff".  I mostly just used bath soap for most of my life when I shaved.  (Did you catch that?  "when I shaved"?  I am blessed with fair skin and fairer body hair -- you can barely see it!  Why bother, I wondered.)  Plus, my feminist ire was raised back in the early 70's which gave me a socio-political reason to feel a sense of relief about being inadequate in the "girl stuff" categories of make up, hair (both body and head), and undergarments.    So at the ripe old age of (almost) 64, I realize I am suffering from arrested development of all things "girl".

I still don't do mani-pedis or color my hair or fix it in any ways that require braids or pins or updos.

I missed the entire debate about current trends in pubic hair.  I know that Brazilian waxes were all the rage for awhile (leaving one shiny and bare -- like a newborn babe! -- but all I could imagine was the pain of getting there.)   Just to check in with the current thinking, just now (with some trepidation) I Googled "pubic hair styles" and found dozens of websites that were NOT pornographic, but highly educational.  Here's one:  http://www.express.co.uk/life-style/style/470716/Pubic-hair-trends-2014-The-full-waxed-look-is-out-the-bush-is-back  Take that to the stylist next time you go in.

I have found that my remedial education in catching up with the girly arts has had some surprising results.   I LIKE smoothly shaved legs and the thick, aromatic creams I use to get them.  I LIKE a really nicely fitted bra, to give "the girls" a boost now that they seem to want to move south.  I LIKE a hairdo that is both easy to care for and attractive.  I LIKE the Clinique counter at Macy's where I buy the 4 items of make up I wear most days (base, blush, brown shadow and mascara), from kindly women in white lab coats (it's SCIENCE!)   I like being a girl, exploring the feminine arts of body care.

I also like earning a living wage, speaking my mind, being treated with respect, having equal access to any and all educational, professional, social, and political avenues open to men.  I guess shave cream and feminism don't have to be mutually exclusive.

I just wish the Lady Waltons would put a bit of the old feminine decorative arts to work in their stores.  The new one is just as soul deadening as the rest.  They might also grab some feminist gusto and insist on  providing better pay and working conditions for their employees and look into the labor practices of the countries from which they import their cheap stuff.  Just sayin'.

At least, that's the view from here… ©