Me. A girl who has now collected jars of her own urine not once, but twice – finding new and innovative tricks along the way that quite possibly made urine collection more of an art form than a disturbing science experiment.
OK, so it was still a disturbing science experiment, but the point is – I don’t gross out easily.
Especially when it comes to my own bodily fluids.
But the idea of the Diva Cup? It repulsed me.
(Which is where the disclaimer comes in boys – this post is about my period. About all the varying options women have in terms of handling the bloody aspects of their period. Turn away. Turn away now. There is simply nothing here for you to see today.)
I just could not wrap my head around the idea of a cup sitting up inside me every month collecting the… drainage.
But then – I learned how much more terrifying tampons are.
A fact which truly threw me for a loop, because all my life – I have relied quite happily upon those little wads of cotton.
It’s true that once the issues with endometriosis began, I did realize that my cramps seemed to be worse when I had a tampon in. And that part was disappointing (because as anyone with endo will tell you – anything that makes your cramps worse is not a good thing), but… I was lazy. And tampons were convenient. Or whatever.
I think it might have had more to do with the fact that everyone else uses tampons.
They were kind of all I’d ever known in terms of period control.
But once I learned how truly evil they were (especially in regards to endometriosis), I vowed to throw my stock pile away and never look back.
I was serious.
Until I spent an entire period using pads.
Feeling like there was a diaper in between my legs.
A diaper that shifted and moved anytime I tried to embark upon any kind of athletic activity at all. A diaper that left me feeling itchy and… moist. A diaper that I convinced myself had to smell. Had to be making me smell.
Because yes, these are the things I worry about.
And while I couldn’t get anyone I knew or loved to either confirm or deny this suspicion, I feel like I got my answer when upon visiting Loo one night (Loo, who flat out refused to get close enough to be able to tell me whether or not she could smell period on me - despite my proclamations that a good friend would do it) I was attacked by a strange dog just outside her front door.
A strange dog that practically dragged it’s leashed owner to the ground in its desperate attempt to stick its nose all up in my lady business.
All the while, Loo stood by laughing hysterically – knowing exactly why this dog had been so intent upon coming up and molesting me in public.
And it was at that moment that I decided – something had to be done. Tampons were toxic enemas and pads were nothing more than… well, nothing more than bloody diapers clearly meant to act as canine aphrodisiacs.
Thanks, but no thanks.
So, I bit the bullet. I ordered myself a Diva Cup on drugstore.com and waited.
Patiently waited to see what kind of horrific contraption would arrive in the mail.
When it arrived, I was pleasantly surprised at how unassuming it was. I’m not sure what I expected, but this thing didn’t look nearly as scary as I had pictured it in my head.
(note: all photos taken before use!)
And the material was bendy enough that even I (the girl with those pesky pelvic floor muscle spasms) felt comfortable getting it up inside me.
You know, when the time came.
Until then, I tucked it away in a drawer and waited.
Worrying and wondering and painfully curious as to how this experiment was going to play out.
Unfortunately, there is very little that is predictable about my periods. I can usually tell when I ovulate, and then I know that my period is a few weeks away. But the length of my cycles has never been regular, and what may take 35 days one month could inevitably be 50 the next.
Although, according to my Period Predictor iPhone App (because yes – there’s an app for that), I’ve been averaging 36 day cycles.
Which is better than I would have though.
Either way though – this month I spotted for about 7 days around when I otherwise should have been ovulating. I’ve heard of women who spot around ovulation, but it’s never been me. In fact, while I used to spot mid-cycle from time to time when I was on the pill, this is the first time it’s ever happened to me while off those synthetic hormones.
So, I wasn’t really sure what was going on. Or whether or not to count it as ovulation.
As far as I was concerned – the arrival of Aunt Flo was entirely up in the air.
And the opportunity to use my exciting new contraption may as well have been years and years away.
But then… I woke up Monday morning to cramps and a low backache.
And I knew.
The crimson tide had arrived, and it was officially time to start using “the cup.”
I hesitantly walked into the bathroom and eyed the pretty purple bag containing my Diva Cup.
Did I really want to do this?
But yes – I was resolute. I was going to at least be able to say I had tried.
And so, I removed it from its bag and reached below my sink for the handy Diva wash I had ordered with the cup.
Because if I’m going to be a Diva girl – you had better believe I’m going to order all the bells and whistles too.
I washed the bendable piece of silicone and then sat down on the throne – preparing myself for what I was convinced was going to be an uncomfortable endeavor.
I scanned the picture instructions for what seemed to be the millionth time before folding up the Diva Cup like a taco and inserting it into my… well, into my taco.
It went in just fine, but then that’s where things got tricky.
I could tell the cup hadn’t expanded out of its taco shape into cup shape, and I couldn’t quite figure out how to resolve the situation. According to the instructions, I was supposed to rotate the cup a full 180 degrees at this point to ensure the seal, but I couldn’t figure out had to get a good enough grip to rotate it once it was all up in there.
What came next I’m fairly sure isn’t suitable blog material.
Let’s just go ahead and say that it’s possible I had more of my hand up my own hoo-ha than I had ever really intended.
And I still didn’t do it right. Because just a few hours later, I was spotting. And adjusting. And trying to figure out just how to enact this "seal" I kept reading about.
I would say it took at least the first day (and possibly part of the second) before I figured out how to insert this thing correctly so that it didn’t “leak”. I wore a panty liner for the entire period as well – just in case. Even when I didn’t manage to get it in right though, and the seal wasn’t perfect, there still wasn’t much leakage. No more than what you would see from minimal spotting. Nothing a liner couldn’t handle while I struggled to figure it out.
And I have to be honest – this thing was ridiculously comfortable. Which may sound insane, and perhaps comfortable isn’t the right word, but… once it was in, I couldn’t feel it at all.
You know how with tampons, there are times you can feel them riding too low, or sponging off your insides in a less than cozy manner?
Yeah, that doesn’t happen with this thing. I couldn’t feel it at all!
No pad “moistness” and no tampon “suckage”.
It was incredible how much of an improvement this was in the comfort realm. And even beyond that - I felt completely secure and protected by it. I didn't have any qualms or worries at all about it shifting or coming out on its own. In fact, I was pretty convinced I could have run a marathon with it in just fine. You know, if I was even remotely motivated to go and do something crazy like run a marathon.
Plus… I kind of liked not having to worry about a string hanging out of me. For reasons I’m not even sure how to explain. That string though? It’s always kind of grossed me out. It just hangs there, waving in the wind every time you go to the bathroom. And then tucking back into your nether regions, all wet and covered in urine.
That’s nasty, right?
But with this… no string. I would say it’s about the size of a shot glass, with the end tapering off like an egg. And then at the very end, there is a piece that's almost like a stick attached. The piece that’s there to help you grip it.
That part is small though, and once this thing is inserted – it’s fully inside of you.
Nothing hanging out collecting urine for the road.
I dig it.
The real test came later though – before removal.
Knowing how much the events of the day had broken me down, Loo had shown up at my house and insisted I extract myself from underneath my covers and go on a walk with her to clear my head.
I grudgingly agreed, wiping my tears and trying to make myself presentable for the outside world.
I didn’t do the greatest job.
Once out in the ever-increasing Alaskan daylight though, Loo went to her car to let BeeZee out.
BeeZee. Loo's Rhodesian Ridgeback pup.
Or “The Horse” – as we like to call her.
Well wouldn’t you know it – within seconds of being released, that beast of a dog was all up in my business.
Not so much as when I was wearing the diaper, but still… definitely aware that something was going on.
So… apparently the diva cup does nothing to hide the period scent perceptible (hopefully) only to those of the canine persuasion.
Either that, or dogs in general just get some other kind of signal that tells them when you’re bleeding copiously out of your coochie.
And they like it.
I would probably know this if I was a dog person.
I pushed BeeZee's snout out of my crotch and implored Loo to put a leash on her so that she could drag us around the lake.
I silently took one checkmark off of team Diva… Simply because I felt kind of let down that my current state of menses had still been so detectable to the canine species.
Of course, this was all before I had to deal with the actual emptying of the cup.
The part I had been dreading the most.
The picture I had in my head of how this was going to go down was repulsive. You can leave the Diva Cup in for up to 12 hours, and all day at work I just kept thinking about the mess I was going to have to deal with when I got home.
There was a part of me simply horrified at the idea of what was still to come.
But… I think there was another part of me that was also sickly fascinated.
And so, when I got done with my walk and booted Loo from my home, I went upstairs and braved the bathroom.
I sat down, reached up inside to find that little gripper stick, and pulled.
Slowly of course, because I had no idea what I was going to find.
And I was mildly afraid there would be an explosion of some kind when it came out - kind of like the popping of a champagne cork.
I have to admit that taking it out wasn’t the most comfortable experience ever. There was something actually remotely unpleasant about the whole thing. Not painful exactly, but not necessarily smooth sailing either.
Once it was out though… Well, I was left there holding a cup of my own blood.
No joke. In 12 hours time that thing had gotten good and full.
As gross as that seemed to me though… I was also almost a little fascinated at how little it really was. I get incredibly heavy periods, and my entire life I’ve always thought that I bled a great deal more. But this?
Well, it just didn’t seem nearly as disturbing as I thought it would.
And I was left to wonder how it is that I go through so many tampons and pads a month when that is all the blood I'm actually emitting throughout the day.
Do those things not absorb at all, or what?
It was probably the very first time that it truly dawned on me not only how much money I could save by using this thing - but also how much waste I could avoid.
And the best part? I tipped it over and almost all of the contents slicked right out and off of the cup into the toilet.
I had been picturing this huge messy ordeal, but the truth is – the cup and the blood were like oil and water. As soon as I turned it over, the undesirable contents spilled right out.
From there, I got up and gave it another rinse using the Diva Wash (per the instructions) and put it back in for round 2.
An endeavor which got easier and easier with each new insertion.
And now, Aunt Flo has left the building. The Diva cup is housed once again in its little purple bag under my sink, and I am pretty positively sold.
The truth is, even though the Diva Cup did not work to turn off the period beacon sent out only to dogs, it was still far superior to the alternatives in every other way.
Safe. Chemical free. Imperceptible once inserted. And capable of being left in for 12 straight hours.
Ding Ding Ding – I think we have a winner!
Seriously, if Dr. Cook called me up tomorrow and informed me that tampons were now deemed completely safe and there was no reason in the world for me not to use them – I think I would still stick to my Diva Cup.
I liked it that much.
So much, that I actually wish I had taken the plunge and tried it years ago.
As far as my period this month?
It was a cakewalk. My low back hurt pretty much the entire time, and I did need to pop some ibuprofen on Monday for my cramps, but other than that… smooth sailing.
Leaps and bounds better than my pre-surgery periods.
And for that, I continue to be eternally grateful to Dr. Cook.
At the end of the day, bleeding out of our lady bits every month sucks.
There’s a reason women used to be banished to period tents until the bleeding was done.
But I have to admit… the Diva Cup makes it suck just a little bit less.
And it’s nowhere near as gross as I feared it would be.
So yeah, I’m a Diva Girl.
It’s cool… I think I’ve decided to go ahead and embrace my inner hippy.
Peace. Love. And Diva Cups.
