Lin Christie

In our family, we handle uncomfortable or embarrassing conversations in a traditional way. We avoid them. The best illustration I can think of to explain how my family deals with these situations has to be when my mom gave me the ‘sex talk’ when I was 11. But first, some background.

Everyone knows about The Film. Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was one day in the life of every 6^th grader when the girls went to the movies and the boys got an extra recess. The Film. For those of you who have never seen The Film, it’s pretty basic and uninformative. Here’s what I remember from all those years ago. The running commentary is from the POV of my 11-year-old self.

Title card. Non-descript ‘happy’ elevator-type musak, circa at least two decades prior to the one in which the film was shot. Sponsor card: Brought to you by Kotex.

Scene One: Little Suzy riding her bike on a sunny day. Suzy has long, straight blond hair, beautiful blue eyes, an amazing smile with gorgeous straight white teeth. Her bike is pink, a white basket with flowers mounted on the front and pink plastic streamers flowing from the handlebars. I already hate Suzy. One of her friends calls her name and Suzy turns to look over her shoulder. Freeze frame. Close up.

Male voiceover: Suzy is a typical blah blah blah blah blah.

I zoned out during the dull parts.

But something special is happening to Suzy. She is becoming a woman.

Okay. You got my attention.

Scene Two: Still photograph of Suzy, full-sized and standing in the “See-Through-Woman” pose, morphs into what might as well be a black chalk outline. We no longer see Suzy, but a generic, non-descript, prepubescent female form.

Male voiceover lists the changes while black arrows point discretely at the general vicinity in which those changes are taking place. Mind you, the arrows are well outside the black outline, making this portion of The Film inscrutable and non-specific.

Scene Three: Tight close-up of Outline Suzy’s now visible cartoon uterus. Male voiceover begins some wild tale of things which cannot possibly be true.

You gotta be kidding me. How long has this been going on and why haven’t I heard about it before now?

Oh, and for the record, you should also bear in mind that while the mechanics of the monthly cycle of the female are being explained, the reason for said cycle is not discussed. Vague reference is made to having babies and babies growing in the uterus, but there is no mention of how that baby got in there.

Now I am more perplexed than ever. I should try to find out about that baby stuff. That could probably come in handy. But finding out would involve asking someone, a task that would surely cause Death by Embarrassment.

On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know that badly.

Scene Four: Return to freeze-frame Suzy from Scene One, who unfreezes and continues her ride toward the distant sunset and, apparently, toward womanhood.

Male voiceover: Suzy blah, blah, blah. Use Kotex.

Swell non-descript ‘happy’ musak.

Fin.

That’s it, guys. That’s all there is to it. You can relax in the knowledge that you have not missed a Film of Importance.

At this point, the school nurse stood up to ask if there were any questions. Well, hell yeah! We all had a question. We all had The Question. And yet, for several minutes, crickets could be heard chirping in that cafetorium. Finally, one brave girl hesitantly raised her hand and asked The Question. The collective breaths of all the girls in the 6^th grade class of Galveston Elementary School were held as we turned in unison to hear the woman in white explain the deepest, darkest mystery of the human species.

At which point, the senior female faculty member interceded and said with a smile, “Goodie bags for everyone!”

Forget the mysteries of life. There was swag to be had. In each bag: a toothbrush, travel-sized toothpaste, travel-sized deodorant, and of course, a sample of a Kotex product.

When I arrived home from school with my swag-bag in hand, for reasons I cannot even begin to explain, Mom felt a need to follow-up with me. Perhaps she wanted to make sure I understood the process. Maybe she needed to assure me that it was okay to become a woman, that there was nothing scary or weird about it. I’m sure that’s what good moms everywhere do when their daughters come home after having seen The Film. Unfortunately, this is my mom we’re talking about. Oh, she’s a good mother. That’s not the issue. No. My mom is so uptight that, much like the Tin-Man in The Wizard of Oz, she squeaks when she walks . Mom’s so uptight that she still scolds me when I say the word ‘fart’ because it’s ‘just not a nice word.’ And I’m in the latter half of middle age.

I’m fearful of what will happen if one day I accidentally drop the f-bomb in her presence. That reminds me. I really need to renew my CPR certification.

The following is the actual transcript of our After School Special conversation entitled The Film.

MOM: So. <fidgeting, wipes her hands on her pants, brushes at a bit of non-existent dirt on her slacks> You saw The Film today.

ME: <staring intently at the crack in the linoleum flooring, swallowing hard, eyes now following the ant crawling toward the crack in the flooring> Yeah.

MOM: So. <deep breath, cleaning non-existent dirt from under her fingernails, stopping to look at the cuticle on pinky of right hand, folds hands in lap> Do you have any questions?

ME: <eyes bulging, trouble swallowing, hyperventilating, but still trying to keep a cool exterior> Nope.

MOM: <visibly relieved> Good. Why don’t you go out and play till dinner?

ME: <visibly relieved> Okay. <Jumping up and running faster than ever before or ever since, hitting the screen door and never looking back.>

Since that time, whenever we have an uncomfortable topic to discuss, this is pretty much the script we follow. Remarkably pliable and easily adaptable, the script has gotten us past many an uncomfortable situation. Our family has used it as the basis for communications for decades. It might not be perfect, but it works for us.