From the moment I first experienced my period (the morning before a sixth-grade field trip, no less, wearing bright red jeans and a panty liner—talk about a memorable debut), I’ve been on a quest to make that monthly event a bit less of a hassle. Less painful (I’m talking three Advil at the first sign of discomfort), less exhausting (I’m in bed by 10 p.m. on day one), and, frankly, less gross. Yes, I’ve become quite comfortable with my period over the years—it’s served as a reliable reminder of my femininity more than 300 times—but I still find some aspects of it a bit unsettling.
In my pursuit of comfort, I often ignore my eco-conscious instincts and follow a friend’s advice: “Your period isn’t the time to save the planet,” leading me to use brand-name plastic applicator tampons. I’m not about to experiment with cardboard or o.b. when it comes to the 2.4 tablespoons of “menstrual fluid” I deal with each month. This brings me to my perplexity over women who are passionate about the DivaCup.
For those unfamiliar, the DivaCup is a reusable, bell-shaped menstrual cup that’s worn internally, sitting low in the vaginal canal to collect, rather than absorb, menstrual flow. I’ve heard its fans rave about how cost-effective it is (which is tempting), how simple it is to use (seriously, a cup of blood is easier than a tampon?), and how it helps the environment (while I totally get the point, we’re still talking about a steady flow of blood). Some even claim you can have sex with it in—though that’s a no-go for me.
While I admire the comfort level DivaCup users have with their own anatomy, I have so many questions for them (and for the various off-brand versions with equally quirky names like Bella Cup and Lila Cup):
- How do you remove it without causing a mess?
It’s a small cup filled with blood and uterine lining, and you’re pulling it out of your body. How does this not turn into a scene from a horror film? I know you’ll say it usually doesn’t happen, but what if it does? Imagine being in public when it does. A little tampon leak is one thing, but a full-blown blood spill is another. - What happens when it reaches capacity?
The DivaCup promises up to 12 hours of leak-free protection. But what’s the situation like in hour 13? I know with tampons, a bloody string is a warning sign. How does that work with the cup? Is it like a champagne fountain, but instead of champagne, it’s blood? - What’s the deal in a public restroom?
You take your DivaCup out in a stall, dump it, and then what? Do you wash it at the sink? What’s your hand hygiene like when you touch the stall door? And what’s the reaction of the other women around you while you’re rinsing off your bloody cup? - What about your fingernails?
I’m a bit squeamish about blood, so I can’t help but wonder about your nails after handling a cup full of it. Do you keep a nail brush handy? What’s happening with your cuticles? - What’s actually in the cup?
I know this is a bit graphic, but what’s the ratio of solid to liquid? - Is this thing dishwasher safe?
I once ran a toilet plunger through my dishwasher, and a germ-conscious friend suggested I replace it altogether. Do you really clean your DivaCup thoroughly, or is it just a quick rinse? - What about odors?
The DivaCup website states that menstrual flow only starts to smell when exposed to air. But doesn’t that happen when it spills? I mean, I’m guilty of flushing tampons (even though I know I shouldn’t), but I don’t have to deal with the smell of my period lingering around. - What happens if it gets stuck?
While I know this shouldn’t occur, what if it does? I can only imagine the panic if it falls out, especially in a swimming pool. Talk about a nightmare! - Are o.b. tampons a stepping stone to the DivaCup?
Did you gradually work your way up, or was it a leap of faith straight into the DivaCup world? - Do you miss buying ‘feminine hygiene’ products?
Let’s be real: you probably don’t. No more awkward moments at the checkout! You win this round! - Am I a terrible person for being hesitant about this?
I kind of feel that way. I want to embrace my menstrual blood, not worry about what others think while washing my cup in a public restroom. I want to be eco-friendly and not contribute to landfills, but here I am, still flushing tampons. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying to be better.
This article highlights the curiosity and hesitation surrounding the DivaCup, a product that many find liberating, while others like me remain skeptical. If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, be sure to check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. And for those considering at-home insemination options, this reputable retailer offers a variety of syringe kits. If you’re curious about more discussions like this, visit this blog post for additional insights!
In summary, while the DivaCup has its advocates, I remain on the fence, intrigued but hesitant.
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