Content note: obviously, this post
talks about menstruation
One thing I did for environmental
reasons that I ended up loving for its practicality and ease of use
was buy and use a menstrual cup. For those of you who don't know what
I'm talking about, a menstrual cup is a reusable, bell-shaped vessel
about two inches long (this can vary), usually made out of rubber or
silicone, that is inserted into the vagina, creates a “seal” with
the vaginal wall up near the cervix, and catches menstrual blood as
it comes out of the uterus. They serve as a replacement for pads and
tampons.
For those of you who do
know what I'm talking about and want more details, the kind I bought
was a silicone DivaCup, the smaller size for nulliparous women. When
I bought mine (I think I was a freshman in college, to give you an
idea) there weren't nearly so many kinds as there are now. This
morning I went to menstrual_cups, a LiveJournal community dedicated
to the subject, and counted about twenty kinds now listed in the
sidebar, only half of which I recognized. I would imagine that the
proliferation of kinds makes it easier to find something for almost
any body and comfort preferences, but also that having so many
options makes it harder to choose.
Using
a menstrual cup definitely has a learning curve. The hardest part is
usually learning to insert it properly, which often means learning
one of the many
folds
that creative cup users have come up with over the years. The purpose
of folding the cup is to get it into the vagina easily-- the thing is
an inch or so in diameter when open, so you can imagine how difficult
that could be to insert without folding. The DivaCup I bought
recommended a fold called the “C-fold,” which is the most basic;
after a lot of experimentation, I settled on the “punch-down”
fold.
In
addition to the frustration that can result from trying to get the
darn thing in and, once it's in, trying to get it to open
and seal, you also have to learn
how to get it out again without making a mess (answer: carefully),
and, usually, how to clean it in public (answer: hold on to it
tightly, dump contents in toilet, wipe out with toilet paper,
reinsert). All of these things together took me at least a year to
get decently good at it. If you're squeamish about blood, or your own
blood, or menstrual blood, you'll probably want to get over that as
well. It's not that it has to be messy, but you do have to be
comfortable with your own genitals.
I
know I've made using a menstrual cup sound pretty intimidating and
high-effort. So why did I bother? At first, I wanted to stick with it
for the environmental benefits as well as the money I was saving; I
think I bought my cup for about $30, which took the place of $3-6
worth of pads every month. As I actually got the hang of it and got
used to it, I found that I liked it as an experience more than any
other kind of feminine hygiene supplies. I've never really liked or
been able to use tampons, and wearing pads led to the uncomfortable
sensation of being able to feel
the blood gushing out (yes, gushing is the word I wanted to use
there) and constantly worrying that it was going to leak out. I used
to have very heavy periods (more on the used to
in a bit), and even though I often had to use a pad with the cup as
backup, it still just felt better. It was also cleaner and smelled
better, since the blood stayed inside my vagina instead of smearing
over everything.
Arguably
the most awesome thing that happened was that my periods lightened
up. They used to be very heavy, lasting about six days; I had
terrible cramps and lost a lot of blood. Now they're three days, if that; I never use a backup pad
any more and can't remember the last time I overflowed a cup. I don't
actually know if this was due to the cup. Maybe it was just my
hormones settling down-- I bought it when I was a freshman in
college, and now I'm in graduate school. I'm not the only one who's noticed this, though. One
theory is that the suction of the cup pulls the blood out a little
faster, but I don't think this is the case, since I had heavy periods
for a couple of years after using the cup. Only later did they
lighten up. Another theory is that pads and tampons have some sort of
chemical in them that makes periods heavier, or longer, or worse?
That sounds like a conspiracy theory to me, and I would like to
believe it's not true, but there's not a lot that comes out of
corporate America any more that surprises me. Another possibility is
that the people who buy menstrual cups are disproportionately in
about the same age bracket as I was, so that many of us are observing
the same hormonal transition.
Anyway,
between the change in my periods (cup-induced or not), and the
significant increase in convenience and decrease
in mess that comes with using a cup, I often forget I'm having my
period at all. I know that some people find menstruation to be a
positive and empowering experience; to that I say more power to you,
I'm just not one of you. For me, not noticing my period is a good
thing because it means I can get on with my life with fewer
distractions. It's also something I never would have imagined
happening when I was sixteen and having horrible, long, heavy periods
each month.
I've
been using my cup pretty much exclusively for the last two years or
more, and before that I was only using one to three pads each month,
as backup. It has paid for itself several times over at this point,
it has made having my period a much more pleasant experience, and it
has let me divert what would probably be several cubic feet of
blood-sodden pads from the landfill. There are other conveniences,
too, that I haven't mentioned yet-- for example, I don't have to
worry about running out of pads or tampons. I don't even have to
think about it.
In
conclusion, check out this hilarious and jaw-droppingly awesome
tampon vs. Mooncup rap battle.
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