My Jethima (my much older Aunt) and I shared a special bond. She pampered me and let me eat jam which I loved but could only have limited occasional amount at my own home which my mother ran in a tight budget. Jethima or Jimma as I called her was special to me for many other things too. She would let me read "n" number of story books. I could sing and dance at home. Dirty her drawing room. She did not think I was particularly naughty. I was, but it always helped when others (very few) did not think so. However, that one day, when she came out of the bathroom, after I had used it, she did not look pleased. She called me to her room and whispered in a hard voice, "Are you menstruating? I saw some clots in the bathroom floor. Was that yours?" I was 13. I said, "No." She probed further. I had never seen her being steely like that. It broke my heart as I said "...but Jimma I would then need pads, right? And I would have to throw them too and you could h