Me and my girls, we don't use any secret language. There's no Aunt Flow, no Aunt Mary, no kitty with nose bleeds nor a war in Virginia. It is what it is. Can I be happy my Aunt Mary died 10 years ago? I didn't grieve over it. I don't miss her one bit. She didn't make me feel feminine at all. People gave me that weird look when I told them I was going to let go of Aunt Mary. We had a good relationship as long as it lasted, but she became a real burden once D got involved. She totally screwed me up and that's when I decided it was time to let go of her.
I wonder if men have secret language too... I guess they won't fill us in?