The Moment I Met T.O.M

When I Thought Periods Were just Short-Term

When I was 12, I thought periods were a brief administrative inconvenience. Something that popped up, caused mild chaos, and then politely packed its bags by teatime. Two hours, maybe three if it was feeling dramatic.

This belief lasted until a Tuesday.

What Health Education Didn’t Explain

Health education had technically mentioned periods, but in the same way weather forecasts mention “a chance of rain” without clarifying that the rain will ruin your entire weekend. The key detail — duration — was omitted. Entirely. I assumed it was like a fire alarm: alarming, inconvenient, but mercifully short.

So when it finally happened, I thought, Right. Here we go. I’ll just deal with this and then carry on with my life.

I handled the situation with the calm confidence of someone who had absolutely misunderstood the brief. I even remember thinking, Good thing this isn’t happening on a school night. That would be awkward.

A few hours passed.

Things did not wrap themselves up.

This was unexpected.

I went home. I waited. I carried on assuming we were in the “winding down” phase. Surely this was the sort of thing that peaked quickly and then apologised.

It did not apologise.

The Confidence in Biology

The next morning, I woke up fully expecting everything to have reset overnight, like a computer after you turn it off and on again. Instead, it was very much still happening, with no signs of conclusion or remorse.

At this point, I wasn’t frightened. I was confused. Genuinely, deeply confused. Like discovering a meeting you thought was a quick catch-up is actually a three-day conference.

I approached my mum cautiously.

“So… er… how long does this usually go on for?”

She paused, as though choosing her words carefully, and said, “A few days.”

A few days.

Days.

Plural.

Days are not hours. Days have mornings. Days include school. Days involve logistics. Days mean this is no longer an incident — it’s a schedule.

This was the official moment I met T.O.M (Time Of the Month).

Meeting T.O.M Properly

I remember standing there, silently recalculating my entire understanding of time. I had prepared for an inconvenience. I had not prepared for a residency.

The realisation landed in stages:

• This would still be happening tomorrow.

• It might still be happening the day after.

• This was not a one-off.

And, most disturbingly of all, it would return.

Regularly.

Forever-ish.

This felt less like a natural process and more like signing up to a gym membership I didn’t remember agreeing to.

The rest of that week was spent in a haze of quiet resentment and intense vigilance. I planned my days around it. I packed my bag like I was preparing for an expedition. I moved through the world with the seriousness of someone guarding a national secret.

Emotionally, I fluctuated between feeling incredibly mature and personally betrayed.

Why We Should Be More Honest About Periods

Because the shock wasn’t that it happened — it was how long it stayed. No one had warned me. Not the leaflets. Not the videos. Not the smiling diagrams that suggested this was all very manageable. Those diagrams were misleading at best and legally questionable at worst.

If I could go back and speak to my 12-year-old self, I’d be honest. I’d say, “This is not a quick errand. This is a multi-day engagement. Clear your diary.”

And then I’d add, “Yes, it’s normal to be annoyed. Everyone is. We just don’t talk about it properly.”

Which, frankly, feels like the biggest surprise of all.