The Ham that Made Me a Woman

There are moments in our lives where one realizes that they have through some action or right of passage (or what have you) that you have become an adult. For the Catholics (can I get a Holla!?) it comes when one gets confirmed, for Jews (can I get a Shalom?!) it is with a bat or bar mitzvah, for many it is the first time a girl gets her period or a boy jizzes all over the bed sheets. For some Amerindian tribes it meant having to cover yourself in clay and dance all day without taking the stuff off of you! Imagine trying to itch your nose without scratching the stuff off... impossible!

Though some of these things have happened to me in my life, actually only one, (you guess which!) I suppose I never truly considered my adulthood. In fact, if I were asked about a week ago as to my status as an adult I would have to ponder the question for quite some time and come up with another question in response, "Am I still allowed to identify as a tween?". But thanks in large to my Nana, and our Catholic lust for ham on Jesus's day of birth, I was able to realize my adulthood.

There are some of you who may already know what I am referring to... about five days ago, I made a ham. A spiral ham to be exact. While returning to school I made the obligatory pit stop at my Nana's house and was met at the door by the plump, angelic, sailor-mouthed, 5' 2" woman that is my mother's mother. She was bearing gifts.

"I just went by the store and there was a sale and so I bought you just a few dry goods!" My Nana treats Stop&Shop like Loehmann's .

She hands over two brown bags overflowing with pasta of ever shape and size imaginable. Chips. Salsa. And chocolate. But the real prize was waiting in the kitchen.

"Wait and I have one more thing for you."

She hands over the two bags which take up all the arm-age I possess, and scurries into the kitchen, a flash of white hair and blue sweatshirt.

"Here you go, I didn't cook it for Christmas day so you can take it back to school and have it with your friends!"

My Nana returns and appears to be swaddling a child. No... my eyes have fooled me, it's not a child, it's...

"It's a spiral ham."

"Oh wow. Uh... thanks Nana yeah this is great."

"Now what's that look for, I'm gonna bop you!"

I get bopped. (This happens often, as I have a tendency to sass people.)

"Alright now drive back up before it snows." She goes on about the imminent apocalypse of snow that my mother has convinced her is about to occur in Massachusetts.

"Love you. So long!"


I drive back up to Worcester, ponder cooking the ham for about a week, and finally decide to bake it. It was fucked up. Now I'm a woman.