If I Knew Aunt Flo Was Coming, I'd a Baked a Cake

I am going to kill my sister.

We both get our periods at the same time, right? And for those of you without sisters, that’s what happens when women live together: their cycles get synchronized.

I’m not being gross, am I? I’ll try to be more genteel.

Okay, well, sometime in December I used my last…item of personal hygiene and since Lucie’s…items are a different brand, I knew I would need more this month. Well, it’s the sort of thing you don’t think about all the time. I mean, that would be kind of gross. So anyway, we both forgot, I guess, and here it comes and who is missing her items? Not Lucie. I kept thinking I would get to the drug store but I never did and then I had a meeting with Mrs. Kalandyk after school yesterday and I asked Lucie if she would please get a box of my items for me.

“Of course,” she says. “I have to go anyway.”

“Thanks, Luce,” I say. “You’re awesome.”

A nice sisterly exchange, huh? Um, sure, and who had her items last night? Not me. Lucie must have spent two hours at that drug store - she got home way later than I did - and came in with nothing except new makeup. New makeup! Like she doesn’t have enough makeup as it is! And hello? What about my items of personal hygiene??

“L’Oreal was having a huge sale!” she whines.

“But I have my period!”

“Look at everything I got,” she says. She pours out a plastic bag full of makeup onto the kitchen table: mascara, eye liner, lipstick, lip liner, concealer, base, powder, blush, and nail polish. “Half price!”

I admire the makeup. She notices me admiring the makeup.

"You can borrow the lipstick if you want. It would look good on you."

It is a pretty sweet color, I must admit. Still…

“I can’t use any of this for my period, Luce.”

She tells me I can use her items. I grumble. Hers have some sort of deodorant on them and they’re cardboard and they hurt.

This is Aaron’s fault. That’s Lucie’s boyfriend. She's been visiting him in Hollywood a lot lately (so far, no spending the night, thank god) and I noticed her wardrobe has been improving - slightly. New makeup, new underwear, new perfume, and instead of ripped jeans, she now wears stained ones.

Kidding. She still wears ripped jeans.

Boys are just no good, kiddies. That’s the conclusion I have come to. If my sister is any indication, that is.