I first discovered Time in my youth, though I did not yet know her very well. We became acquainted much later, during my high school years. In those days, we wiled away the hours playing video games, reading, watching television… Oh! So many hours… Gone forever. It wasn’t until I started college that we became more intimate. I learned to appreciate her when she was near, and I felt all the more empty when she wasn’t. I began to obsess over her. Stalking her, I would watch her movements constantly. I was mesmerized by her slow but steady pace. She was all that mattered to me.

As my college years flew by, I noticed that Time and I seemed to have a bit of a falling out. Her visits became less and less frequent. In my most dire times of need, for exams, for homework, or even just getting from one place to another, I found myself alone and always in a hurry. Oh! how I wish I could capture Time, like an elusive genie; letting her out when I need her the most, and sticking her back in her bottle to save her from the dull moments in Life. Alas, Time is a free spirit and comes and goes as she pleases.

I saw her this afternoon, as I was rushing to my class. Though I only saw her from the back, the features were unmistakable; her luscious flowing hair, her long legs, her dainty feet, her fair hands. It surely was her. I quickened my pace to catch up, but no matter how fast I walked, even with her slow, steady, sensuous gait, I could not catch up to her. She entered the building I was headed for, and was lost in the crowd. Totally out of breath and heartbroken, I gathered my strength and climbed to the top of the stairs, and entered my class. Amazingly, I was two minutes early, thanks to her.

I saw her, much later, in another building. She was sitting on guy’s lap, whispering into his ear and giggling. The ignorant sod, with a dull look in his eye, promptly put his hat over his face, and fell asleep. She stayed with him, and twiddled with his hair. I felt a sudden surge of hate throughout my body. “That bastard,” I thought, “doesn’t appreciate Time, yet he has all the Time in the world.” And then I thought better of it, and instead thought “Time, you are a slut,” and I walked to my car.

With only ten minutes before the class was let out, I began to feel a slight rumbling of my stomach, and immediately realized that some unholy terrors were en route. Indeed, the demonic breakfast truly kept me awake, for I feared that if I failed to hold back the floodgates, a torrent of hellspawn would be released upon the lecture hall. Time began to slow down towards the final five minutes of the class, which is bad enough when one doesn’t have a small steam engine rushing through his intestines. My vision began to blur, and tears came to my eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, class was dismissed, and sighed greatly, knowing full well that I had saved all those people from complete annihilation. Oh, but the impending danger had not yet been cleared. Far from it. I had to make my way to the bathroom, or the government would be after me for exercising above-ground nuclear weapons testing.

I stumbled towards the bathrooms, but with such a feeling of pain in my stomach, I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of me. Finally, with great effort, I found the door, and found an open stall. Luckily there was no one in there, and I quickly began the process that can only be described as “uncorking the champagne.”

I was just finishing off the bottle, when I heard the door of the bathroom burst open, and the sound of scuffling feet enter the stall next to me. Words cannot describe the following, but I can say that the noises coming from the stall next to me shook me to my very core. My little stomach attack was but a fart in the wind compared to the downright Evil, green decay-stench coming from the next stall. The sound can only be described as a jackhammer pounding the left leg on a medium sized panda. I could visibly see the heat coming off of the wall of the adjoining stall, which was now glowing red. The toilet paper in the dispenser burst into flames, and the lights began to flicker. Green gas started flowing out from underneath, so that I had to pull my legs up over my head to keep from them melting the skin off the bone. The smell, oh God in heaven THE SMELL! It was all I could do to keep my sanity from shattering!

After an incalculable amount of time, the earthquake began to subside (though not without some slight tremors). The scuffling feet moved out through the newly formed hole in the wall, and faded off into the distance. I sat there for some time, not moving, for the shock had sent me into a delirium. Finally, after much mental strain, I managed to get to my feet, and stumble out through the stall door. Most of the smoke had cleared thanks to the newly formed hole in the opposite wall where the detonation had taken place). It wasn’t till I finally looked around when I noticed the lack of urinals in the bathroom. Upon leaving through the door, I looked up at the sign and noticed that I had, in fact, been in the WOMAN’S BATHROOM! I’ve heard that bad things can happen at certain times of the month, but from that day forward, I had a newfound respect and fear of those members of the opposite sex.

When I was eleven, I went through menarche. So the women in my family threw me a party. It happened in the morning before I went to school. Unbeknownst to me, they called my school while I was on the bus, and arranged to have the party in my classroom. Now, to a fifth grader, the kids in that room are the only people in the world, and I didn’t want anyone to know.

That morning, in addition to everyone I knew socially, my family was there, standing under a banner that said, “Welcome to the Joy of Womanhood.” There were red balloons, red streamers, a white cake with the words “Monthly Miracle” in red frosting. Just before I had gotten there, my mother had started sending a big card around the room for everyone to sign with a red marker. I didn’t even know that American Greetings made a “Happy First Period” card. We were in fifth grade, we thought first period meant spelling. I was mortified. I was looking around and my family was so happy. My friends were just confused. Nobody knew what to write on the card, so most of the comments were, “Are you OK?”

As my mother handed me a present in red and white striped wrapping paper, I grumbled under my breath, “What are you doing here?” This was a bad idea. As she responded loudly, “Don’t be embarrassed, your mighty womanly river is nothing to be ashamed of.” My present was Maxi Pads. All the presents were pads. They ranged from light to super absorbency. My friends thought they were diapers. I shouldn’t have asked why I couldn’t have tampons instead. My grandma apparently held very strong opinions on this and told everyone in the class that tampons would take a girl’s virginity. A girl in the back started to cry. I envied her.

Since all the girls in the class were the same age, the teacher thought it would be educational if we kept the party going through lunch. I think she thought it was some kind of Jewish Quinceanera. My great-grandma told everyone about her first period. Her mom died when she was young and she only had seven brothers, no sisters. So, when she got her period she thought she was dying. She felt ashamed because her dad needed her on the farm and she felt that by dying, she was disappointing her whole family. I thanked great-grandma for the pep talk.

My grandpa just talked about how cranky my grandma used to get and called her period a “raging rust-colored torrent.” My dad gave me a hug, but he leaned in so he wouldn’t touch me hip-to-hip. It was the most awkward hug I had ever gotten. My younger brother was pouting because he was jealous that he didn’t get a party. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t have one. My mom told him, “You don’t have a wahoo to bleed out of like Jaime does.”

This story is supposed to have a moral to it, and I did learn something that day. I learned not to wear khaki slacks when you get your period. I hadn’t bled through the pad, I had bled around it and through my pants. My grandma was the first to notice, exclaiming from behind me, “Whoa, Jaime, clean up on isle two!” My mom rushed to the car to get me a new pair of pants. The boy I liked in the front row asked me, “Are you dying?” Yes, Lawrence, yes I was.

They can now turn skin cells into stem cells, which means skin just went way up in value on the medical waste market. Geneticists are searching through plastic surgeon’s dumpsters like hobos or indie soap makers. Those wishing to sell their skin should hurry before a megalomaniacal super-villain releases a flesh eating virus to corner the market on skin. I don’t know if our new blonde Bond-shell can stop him; somebody give Sean Connery a gun.

The Skin-to-Stem™ process is probably very sciency and boring, but in layman’s terms they “turn back the clock.” In layman’s terms a “clock” is a “time circle.” But if they can do this with individual cells, how long before they can do it with our whole bodies? Reverse aging, all you need to do is save up enough skin to equal your body mass, then win the lottery a couple times and presto; instant youth.

So now instead of spending your entire life saving for retirement, you spend your entire life saving for your Youthanizing™, only to spend a whole new life working and saving for the same thing. So what was once a spiral, is now a circle. With the price tag you’ll have pick one, have a kid, or stay young…or…clone yourself, and raise the clone; talk about growing up to be just like your parents. You could give your clone all the things you never had, as long as you have them now.

In addition to the possibilities for curing disease and cancer, we can look forward to, designer babies, chimeras and super powers. Now that I’ll be able to choose my genetic makeup, why not have some fun. My eyes are sensitive to visible light because of my genes, so first on the agenda is heat vision. Also, I’ll need speed healing like Wolverine. While we’re at it, adamantium skeleton, but for that I’ll need Magneto’s powers too. This is getting expensive, I’d better get some midichlorians just in case.