Dear readers, I know that I have been neglecting my Mediator Fan Fiction duties for a rather long time and for that I apologize. So, now I come to you with a new story, written as a special tribute to Sweet-And-Sexy-That's-MY-Jesse. Despite the fact that I don't know her personally, her regular updates and fantastic stories always make my day happier.

One more thing, my story Inequitable has been put on permanent hiatus as it makes me sick to look at it. Most of you have never heard of it anyway, so, yes. On with the storytelling. I apologize in advance for the tackiness of it but I've totally lost my touch with the whole writing as a 16 year old teenager thing.

Susannah Simon: Trials of Womanhood

There's this time in every girl's life when she feels completely and utterly different; as in can look at herself in the mirror and wonder who that person is. For most of the female gender, this sort of thing occurs between the ages 10-16 and often comes as quite a shock. For me, it knocked my sideways and I've never been the same since. We all hear about it in health at school, from our mothers, from the more mature girls at school. You guessed it; that time of the month.

I got mine first when I was 13 and a half. I'd been spending the better half of the day in front of the computer in my Mom's study, typing furiously into the keyboard, trying to write a half good essay for school. I'd been so wrapped up in my homework, in fact, that I completely forgot all calls of nature, if you will. So much so that, at two in the afternoon, after jamming down a sandwich my grand mom had brought me, I got up to go to the toilet in a serious need of relieving myself.

My essay was left there forgotten as I hurried to the single bathroom in our measly flat. There, all business was done and I was just about to pull up my jeans when I saw something out of the ordinary. A dark, reddish… splotch, for want of a better word, had stained my underwear. I guess you could call my reaction… nothing. It was like WHAM, right in the face. My breath caught short in my throat, I looked at it and looked it for at least five minutes and the more I looked it, the more I got scared of telling my Mom. I didn't know what I was supposed to say; this great, big lump lodged itself in my esophagus.

Finally, I got all my strength and courage together, buttoned up my jeans (by this time, my legs were just a tad cold; all that frosty New York-en air) and flung open the bathroom door with a cross between a cringe and an on-the-verge-of-tears look on my face. Even though I was scared out of my wits about telling my Mom knew I had to. I mean, I couldn't just go about for the rest of my life pretending I didn't have my period. The questions! For all I know, my Mom could have decided to bring me to a hospital and get me checked out and God knows of the awkwardness that would definitely come next…

I found my Mom in the kitchen, drinking root beer and reading the latest edition of Reader's Digest. Now that I think of it, she looked so much younger back then than what she does now. It's only been a few years, but the difference is pretty freaky. I guess being a widow with a daughter and a mother to look after in New York can get pretty stressful… Anyway, I marched up to her and tugged on her ponytail. She was lying down on the couch so that her hair was dangling down from the armrest so it was pretty easy to do this.

"Yes, sweetie?" she said without her eyes leaving the article she was reading.

It sort of calmed me down a little that she wasn't concentrating much on what I was saying.

"I think I've gotten my…" I squirmed a little where I was standing and cleared my throat. "I think I've gotten my period."

It all came out in a rush so I kind of doubted that my Mom had heard at all so I waited for a few seconds longer than necessary for a reply. When she did, I'm pretty sure she had tears in her eyes or something and that freaked me out for a second.

"Mom?"

"I'm so happy for you, Susie! You're a woman now," gurgled my mum happily and she sat up, squeezing my hand.

"Um… Yeah, thanks, Mom."

I didn't know what to say so I mumbled what I thought she wanted to hear.

"Oh! Yes, I have to get you all your pads and whatnot now, don't I? You can use mine for now; I'll buy you some when I got to the Thrift-way next. How's that sound, sweetie?"

She was gushing again. Yup, I'd gotten this bad habit from my Mom; an anchor woman. How she managed to keep a level voice when reading about typhoons in Canada or a sick little puppy being found after three months was beyond me.

"That sounds fine."

She was still clutching my hand when she brought me into her bedroom and pulled out a packet of sanitary pads from her sock drawer (I know, sock drawer…).

"Okay, you put on like this… then do that… then just whack that in place… and you're good to go!"

Her instructions were kind of iffy, if you know what I mean, but the hand gestures and examples totally made up for the vague description.

"Off you go now; put it on, my woman-in-training!"

She was so happy; it was almost freaky beyond imagination. How could anyone be so happy about their kid having… blood coming out of their… I mean; weird much? But you know, she's my Mom, have to respect her and all. It's not like I'm a Mom so I can't really make much of a judgment.

After I'd done all that jazz, my Mom actually asked me to wake up my grand mom, who was napping in the other bedroom, and tell her of my "discovery." I really, really wanted to tell her she was crazy but I opted for just saying that I didn't want to disturb her. She ate it up; she was practically high so no excuses were really needed.

"Oh! My little girl all grown up; I just can't believe it."

It was like this until dinner. I'm being completely serious. But you know, it sort of made me think. My first real lining of the uterus being emptied from my body; signifies something, doesn't it? Yeah, a whole lot more crap being thrown at me, a whole lot more rambling and babbling from my Mom. Oh, I just couldn't wait to go to school the next day… Yeah, sarcasm there for all those who've been living under a rock for the past ten years. Le sigh; the trials of womanhood.