Let’s talk periods, baby. Let’s talk about you and me. Let’s talk about all the way we bleed together, yeah, baby. Let’s talk about, periods.
Wow, I totally sound like that sex ed video we all had to watch in 5th grade where the boys and girls were put in separate rooms and the boys emerged holding deodorant sticks and the girls emerged with the realization that they’re literally baby making machines.
Did your video have a sleepover where the mom made pancakes in the shape of the female reproduction system (like the whole thing, the whole thing)? I think she may have been their school nurse and/or pancake competition winner because that thing was detailed and looked delicious.
Anyways, well while I’ve been traveling for the last few months I had to take on a new approach to my special time of the month. Drinking alone. Oh and my period.
Before I left on my trip I was having dinner with some friends and someone brought up her Diva Cup (was I accidentally in a commercial?). Another friend agreed she loved hers and we all leaned in to hear their magical experience with a menstrual cup.
First of all, I had a weird problem with the name. Diva Cup. I absolutely hated that feminine products were constantly trying to come off as princess and sparkle themed. I wanted a tampon that had flames printed on the side of the packaging. Fire crotch! Yeah!!!
Enough of that.
Anyways, as my friends discussed the benefits of the Diva Cup I was brought back to the time I first used a tampon. I must’ve been around 12 or 13 and my friend really wanted to go swimming. Goddammit, why do kids always want to go swimming?
I was on my period at the time and didn’t want to see my pad try to absorb anything else. She basically told me to grow up and shove in a tampon. So after that pep talk, I snuck into my mom’s bathroom and stole a tampon. I looked at it, looked at my crotch, looked at it again and gulped. Audibly.
Five minutes later my mom was drawn to her room because she heard her daughter running (more like waddling) around screaming, “I’m never having sex, I’m never having sex!”. (Naturally, I assumed anything shoved up there would be painful and awkward. That’s what I call effective abstinence-based education.) Once she calmed me down I went back into the bathroom to remove the tampon that was half hanging out of me.
Like a bomb squad, both my friend and mom talked me through the process from the other side of the door. I emerged triumphant with the string dangling between my legs like a freaking pull-string doll.
Did we go to the pool? God, no, my friend moved on to apple slices and peanut butter. Did I finally enter into the world of womanhood? Hell yes.
Now, I was looking down the barrel of a very long trip, traveling to countries I didn’t speak the language of. I was still embarrassed to buy tampons at the local pharmacy. I make strange small talk and the cashier frowns at me with concern.
But I decided to do it. I’d buy a Diva Cup, it just made sense. However, I did pack an entire box of tampons as a back up in case I chickened out. Well, I basically used the whole box the first period so my back was against the wall. Also, it cleared a bunch of space in my carry-on.
I took the cup into the bathroom and stared at it for a while. I looked at it, looked at my crotch, and looked at it again. Gulp.
But I did it! I squeezed that sucker in there and it worked like a charm. Plus, I didn’t have to change it for like 12 hours (I really pushed it to its limits) which meant I only had to change it once in the morning and once before I went to bed.
I won’t lie, the first time I removed it, it was like a horror scene. But I’ve gotten the hang out of it since. Now I never have to be that girl who’s wandering around asking people if they have a tampon with desperation in her eyes (that was me, that was always me).
It felt like a hefty investment but it will save me so much in the long run. This isn’t an ad, but seriously give it a try. Then please send in a story of how it went down for you because I bet it was hilarious. Please include the curse words that rang out from the bathroom.
Or don’t send in a story, but research wonderful organizations like Femme International and their Feminine Health Management Program. Or donate because everyone loves money and you get to feel like a good person and everyone will hate you at the dinner party because you’re the cool kid who supports women.