An Evening In The Afternoon

With Just Way More Blood Than You Counted On, I Bet

(If you’re my Grandma Bev: I love you very much. You’re going to want to skip the first eight paragraphs of this letter, because they’re explicitly about my period, period blood, and that kind of thing. If you’re not my Grandma Bev, but periods and blood are not your jam, you have likewise been warned.)

A Note For You, If You’re Having A Bad Day

Dear Friend,

There’s no elegant way to say this: in the year 2000, I was pumped to get my period. It was the first time something that happened in movies happened in my actual life. And here’s what was true about my period: NOTHING IN THE MOVIES HAD PREPARED ME FOR IT! 

I thought I was going to get, like, lovely vampire film blood — the thin kind, the consistency of water, odorless and texture-less. I thought the blood would come out for one day and deposit itself in a feminine gash upon a single Maxi pad in my underwear. I thought the Maxi pad wouldn’t be something I’d need to wear to bed, or something I’d think about in gym class. I thought I’d be able to see the egg in the blood, because it would be white, and the blood would be red, and weren’t humans not that different from chickens, in the end? I thought the egg and the blood and the maidenly Maxi pad would be the beginning, middle, and end of the period, and then it would be over for exactly thirty days, when it would predictably come again, like literal clockwork. 

I thought it would be like this? I took this from this website.

If your body does not have periods, or you aren't terribly familiar with period-having bodies, allow me to expose the truth once and for all: I was wrong.

But I wasn’t disappointed to learn that I was wrong; I felt journalistic about it. Why weren’t we told? Wouldn’t everyone want to know? I started telling people, obsessively. I began a ‘zine, called “Period.,” whose mission was to demystify menstruation. There was exactly one issue due to (criminally) low readership. (Although I remember my mom was proud of me.) 

Anyway, the one thing I remember enjoying researching for the ‘zine was about chocolate. I had read in Teen Magazine (this article is long gone and was probably never on the internet) that eating chocolate was actually factually good for period cramps. A quick Google in 2023 reveals that yes, studies suggest that eating small amounts of dark chocolate during your period can help reduce pain due to its high magnesium content. I was just starting to dabble in veganism at the time, and bought a bunch of “accidentally vegan” chocolate bars to taste test. Lindt was the far-and-away winner, and it’s still often the one I buy. 

I don’t like chocolate. 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me; it’s just never been my thing. The exception is that when I’m on my period, and I bet it’s because of this happy taste-testing ‘zine-writing memory from my teens. I bet it’s because I remember reading that chocolate helps period cramps, so I decided to believe it, so it became true. I bet it’s because I toted around a Lindt bar in my Jansport when my cramps were so bad I couldn’t stand up, and it was sweet and melted in my mouth and was Something To Do About It All, and I loved that. I bet it’s because I enjoyed saying to boys and gym teachers, “Ughghghhg I need chocolate.” Which I did, with aplomb. And they left me alone, because they knew what it meant. It meant my vagina was exploding with chunky, brown, fish-smelling blood and uterine lining, and I was hormonally all-over-the-place, and I needed physical and emotional space, thank-you-very-much. (They knew this because I told them. The movies didn’t tell them. The movies only told them about the chocolate.)

This week, in 2023, I’m on my period again. In the 23 years since 2000, I am still kind of amazed by this monthly event that takes place in my body and in the bodies of more than 2 billion other humans (not to mention all the OTHER mammals who also experience it, albeit differently). This week, in 2023, as a 37-year-old with an I.U.D., I am bleeding sporadically, and I no longer bother with Maxi pads or tampons or even diva cups (it’s period underwear only for me, and if you want to talk about that, SO DO I — I continue to just WANT TO TALK ABOUT PERIODS A LOT, because I think they’re AMAZING!?, but I get that this is not how most people feel, as evidenced by the early discontinuation of 2000’s short-lived ‘zine “Period.,” RIP). This day, in 2023, I am weepy, I feel out of my mind, I am obsessed with making sure NO SPIDERS DIE (!?!!?!?), I’m bone tired, and, the point of this letter is, I woke up wanting — well, no, NEEDING — chocolate.

After a long morning of driving driving driving, I got out of my car and knew I should have a salad. I had every intention of having a magnesium-rich salad. I got into my house, which had everything I needed for a salad. I went into the yard, to gather a few extra-fresh salad ingredients. Salad is one of my Top Two favorite foods. But on the deck in my yard, my eyes fell on this piece of deck furniture I’d purchased in early May — a little gas-powered fire pit. I’d imagined sitting out by it as a family all summer long, with string lights shining and music playing, sipping late night lemonade and roasting marshmallows. I thought we would do this activity at LEAST once a week. I have the ingredients for s’mores perpetually in my possession, ever since the pandemic made bonfires a community necessity. Since early May, this event has happened … never. 

S’mores have chocolate, I thought.

And what was stopping me, I thought, from having a s’mores in the afternoon, alone? How long would a s’mores take? Five minutes? Ten? My period answered: “LET’S HAVE S'MORES. I NEED CHOCOLATE.” I assembled the supplies. I turned on the fire pit. I got out the never-before-used marshmallow roasting sticks, very much intended to be broken in by a friend who was supposed to compliment them, and not alone on a Wednesday afternoon in 80 degree heat. But also, WHY NOT?

I roasted the marshmallows. I made the s’more. I ate the s’more.

Is it possible that a thing is better when you do it alone in the afternoon? Especially when it is supposed to be an at-night-with-others thing? 

It isn’t that it’s better, it’s that it’s a different kind of good. And it’s a kind of good that you should have sometimes. When was the last time that you had an at night thing in the afternoon? One of the great qualities about doing something designated for nighttime in the afternoon is that it’s usually faster and cheaper. 

In college, I used to do work in a hookah bar by myself in the afternoon. I liked to smoke  while writing poetry. I loved how quiet it was, and I loved doing an activity that I normally did with a ton of people all by myself. Every turn was my turn. 

Bands who are relegated to the happy hour stage at live music bars are so thrilled when you go alone and sit in the front with your drink, just to listen to them. Go at 3, at the beginning of their set; you can leave at 4. It’s a whole different, wonderful experience. 

There are more things like this:

• Order a dinner plate, for lunch. (If you can handle a glass of wine, then sure.)

• A matinee.

• Go to the arcade during your lunch break to play just one game.

• Dancing can be BEST in the afternoon. You’ll have to put on the music loud, in a place you can REALLY dance alone, and you better feel very free in the clothes you wear. And have water. And I would recommend pineapple, for afterwards.

• Get dessert.

• Call up the person you like to kiss, see if they would like to kiss you for 10 minutes, go to them, find a secret place, kiss for 10 minutes, go back to work.

• Get dressed up in your fanciest outfit for a little while in the late afternoon. If you like lipstick, then lipstick is important.

• A nap.

• Karaoke. (I do this in my living room, on the projector.)

• (Can you add to this list?)

An evening in the afternoon can take five minutes, or you can take the whole afternoon to do it. It can be done with a friend, or it can be done alone. Importantly, it should be a small thing; little planning. You should be finding some space in between; like traveling on a Wednesday in early December or going to the arboretum in February.

A little something can make a big difference when you need chocolate; and you don’t need to be on your period to need chocolate. I noticed that the s’more was more than a chocolate bar under my covers would have been, because of the novelty. Sometimes doing something a little bit extra — not too much, but a little bit — is just the stir of the peanut butter jar your life needs. 

I hope you’re finding little moments, as always. And sorry I talked so much about my period blood, sort of. If it seemed like I was getting off on it, that’s because I was.

Love,

Sophie

Parenting Paragraph

21 months: So many new words every day. It feels like every day I am meeting a stranger. My favorite right now is “circle,” because T loves to draw them. “Circle, circle, circle” as she draws circle after circle after circle. This is one of the few shapes she has the motor control for. I can see how frustrated she is that she can’t draw the shapes she longs to draw (such as “scare” and “cangle”), and she shows her frustration by scribbling HUGELY after spending minutes making small marks over and over. But she can do a circle. You can do a circle by letting your wrist go. A circle is such a gift. She also finds circles all over the house: rubber bands, glasses, floss on the ground — and announces them all.

I was also excited that she learned “snack” (or “Nack,” or “Yeah! Nack!”) for its communication potential yesterday.

Every day, like nine or ten new ones. It starts to go like an avalanche.

This Week In Sophie

Thanks to my dear friend Cecilia Pinto for nominating me to be part of this year’s NewCity Chicago’s Lit50. I’m in stunning company, and this photo of me by Sally Blood is my favorite ever. (The article says that Sammi Skolmoski and I meet every week to write jokes. In fact, in THE BEST OF TIMES we write every two weeks. It also lists “a favorite joke,” and I want to clarify that that was just a joke the writer of the article liked; it’s not, like, my favorite or anything.)

New prints next week. :)