It's amazing that Miley Cyrus can show up to an award show wearing two straps over her torso and no one bats an eyelash, but when you bring up menstruation, people get all clammy and awkward. No one chooses to menstruate, I promise you that, and if we had the option, barring any impacts to fertility, I promise you none of us would choose to experience this hell every month. Everyone jokes that females become rude and sensitive during this time, to which I posit: wouldn't you if you were hot one minute, freezing the next, if nothing fit you because you were so bloated, if your face erupted with zits, if every joint in your body hurt at the same time, and you were experiencing the feeling of a needle-pointed jackhammer in your lower pelvis? You're all lucky to be alive, and we do this twelve times a year.
Interestingly, scientists have now discovered that the mood changes women experience during ovulation and menstruation aren't necessarily linked to the hormonal changes in the body during that time. If nothing else, I hope this paragraph alone shuts down anyone from ever asking a woman having a normal human emotional reaction to anything if she's "PMS-ing." Rude.
Menstruating women have been stigmatized throughout history in all cultures and throughout all areas of the world. The Ancient Romans believed that women who were menstruating were also witches who drove dogs insane. Pliny the Elder wrote, "On the approach of a woman in this state, must will become sour, seeds which are touched by her become sterile, grafts wither away, garden plants are parched up, and the fruit will fall from the tree beneath which she sits. Her very look, will dim the brightness of mirrors, blunt the edge of steel, and take away the polish of ivory. A swarm of bees, if looked upon her, will die immediately; brass and iron will instantly become rusty, and emit an offensive odour [sic]; while dogs which may have tasted of the matter so discharged are seized with madness, and their bite is venomous and incurable."
 |
| Pliny the Elder, 50 C.E.'s winner of the "Dude Needs to Chill" award |
Segments of the Jewish community require every female to immerse in a mikvah seven days after the completion of her menses so that she may once again be considered "clean." It was said that canning fruits or vegetables during your period would cause your canning to rot in its jar. Menstruating women who chose to bathe or swim during their time of the month would curse everyone who ever chose to use that same water. The crazy is basically endless.
Disney even released this film in 1946 to enlighten young folks on the subject:
Since nearly every natural-born female, human or otherwise, who ever lived on Planet Earth has experienced menarch, efforts have always been explored as a means to "stem the tide." Ancient Egyptian ladies used the first prototype tampons made from papyrus. Cultures in Asia and the Pacific Rim have used mosses, ferns, and leaves to absorb their flow. In the early part of the 20th century, women in the United States were finally able to use a more modern sanitary napkin, but the catch was, they had to wear it inside one of these bad boys
 |
| Just what the aching, bloated, pimple-faced, starving woman needs to feel beautiful! |
Sanitary belts were de rigeur until the early 1980's when science intervened and combined an adhesive to the backing of maxi pads. Now, women could stick them in their skivvies without requiring that absolutely abhorrent sanitary belt.
Which kind of brings us to today, The Golden Age of Menstruation. Women these days believe that their options for sanitation are restricted to tampons, pads, or being a savage and using neither. Buzzfeed asked four women to try a menstrual cup for the duration of their periods. Having always been vaguely aware of the existence of menstrual cups but dismissing them out-of-hand for being too "hippy," or too "gross," I watched the video with an open mind. All of the women in the video survived and didn't end up ruining all of their clothes, so in the interest of objectivity, I decided to try one for myself.
Amazon's selection of menstrual cups is absolutely no joke, and may have one wondering about significant differences is performance and quality. Not being interested in spending over $15 on something I might have ended up despising, I balanced cost with reviews and sprung for the R-Cup (for the sake of objectivity, this brand was purchased, and loved, by a close friend). This was available in two sizes - size 1 for women who have never given birth, or women up to the age of 25, or size 2 for women who have given birth, or are above the age of 25. After reading enough reviews, I decided that despite being older than 25, I would buy the size 1. It has been fine.
The cup arrived and so did my monthlies, so the experiment began.
To insert the menstrual cup, it is necessary to fold it in half on itself, and stick the entire awkward thing up inside your vaginal canal (that link contains a photo of a real-life vagina; you have been warned) just as you would a regular tampon. It will still feel folded once it's inserted, so that's normal, albeit worrisome at first. Once the cup has been inserted and you stand up again, it will form a suction around the cervix which will hold the cup in place.
The menstrual cup is designed to catch, rather than absorb, menstrual fluid (which itself is a combination of blood, an unfertilized egg, and endometrium). This is the aspect of menstrual cups that has resulted in the highest instance of squeamishness among women and elicited the greatest curiosity from me. After inserting the cup in the morning and taking it out to wash it nine hours later, I fully expected to find a full, overflowing situation. On the contrary; after nine hours of first-day flow, the cup was only about half-full. Since I was at home, I was able to remove the cup, empty its contents into the toilet, rinse it out in the sink, and reinsert it. It does take a little bit of practice to insert it properly (resulting in no leaks), so I advise coupling the cup with a panty liner at first.
Month one of menstrual cup use was a tremendous success, and ironically, ended up being the least gross of all the sanitary products I've used, including the standard tampons and pads. With pads, there is a constant exposure to the discharge, and with tampons, there is the smell and general dampness. With the menstrual cup, it was otherwise impossible to notice that I was even menstruating. Becoming more confident with its use, I have worn it to bed, on an airplane, during an all-day trip to Disney, on a ten-hour road trip, and swimming. I've never had a major leak, never felt disgusting (even after the thirteen-hours at Epcot), and never felt uncomfortable. Changing out the cup in public terrified me at first, since I am generally averse to everything having to do with public restrooms, but it was easy to remove the cup, empty it, and reinsert it in one sitting. That night, I just washed it out extra well, since I was unable to wash it out before reinsertion earlier. No infections, weird discharge, or any otherwise strange behavior as a result of its use.
The most lovely aspect of the menstrual cup, besides the general decrease in disgust every month, is that I don't have to make sure my inventory of pads or tampons is adequate. I can be out in public and not have to worry that I don't have a spare tampon with me. I don't have to buy anything else. I have one cup, I take care of it, and that's all I need (besides the occasional panty liner, which are like, zero dollars).
If you're wondering how gross the cup is when you empty it out, it isn't. I think most people expect something like this
But it's really something like this, in terms of volume and consistency:
Have you ever tried a menstrual cup? Got any questions? Leave a comment!
No comments:
Post a Comment