Menstruation –products and then the CUP

image from putacupinit

I have just gone through one period without using a disposable menstrual product, and I am excited and I have to tell it all. I had two oopsies, but that was because attention to detail was not paid – I ignored the bubble once, and was too lazy to check if the cup was open the second instance –yes, I’ve let it slip, I am now using a menstrual cup. Both instances had me hotfooting myself to the bathroom to clear up mabloods on maclothes. I’ve not used any backup, I was at home and safe enough

Anywhooo, here is the story from the lips or rather the mouth of my vagina herself......

“

She has done things to me, that I really have not liked. She put in me a tampon in my youth. I was in my teens. I heard the conversation. Yes I have ears as well as lips. You won’t see them – they are invisible. But I hear things. There was a swimming gala, and the houses were very competitive. All good swimmers had to swim, said head of house. P’s or no P’s. There was a supply of tampons. If the swimming gala is here, you are rolling, you come, get the tampon, shove it in, you swim. She did just that. Ouchie, ouchie ouchie. And won. All Her races. Good for Her. Not for me. Because then She discovered in painful miss and hit fashion that they – the tampons, worked for Her. And She was hooked. Years and years of tampon use later, I am glad they are gone. I cringe when I think about how drying and unfriendly they were, and sigh in relief now that they are gone.

I’d get a break in the night time. And She’d use a pad. But She didn’t really like them – they leaked, and I’d be blasted awake with middle of the night ablutions as she sorted out the mess. She tried many types. Long, short, fat, thin, wide. All. Scented, not scented, ionised. All. Some gave me the itchiness, some were just too hot to wear comfortably, some She said smelt too periody, some fell apart and left me choking in sanitary dust.

And after babies when She used the loopy around each other for ages and ages. I hated them, they never sat right or still. Anyway, we got labia rush – yes, it is a condition and it exists. She used the baby’s nappy cream.

And the panties to hold the pads right. Oh Lord do not let me start. Tight tight. Unpleasant tight. So that the pad does not move. Or the tissues and the cotton wools when we were caught offside. I liked the ones we had for after the babies – some meshy kinda stretchy thing, which were a tad more comfortable.

In my twenties She introduced me to many tampon brands and sizes. OB mini, medium, supper. Kotex supper, for the supper supper days, because it somehow held the flow of blood better on those days, than the OB super.

In my late thirties, the uterus, who is on top of all things gynaecological in Her bottom half, decided to turn things up a notch, and the flow changed. Increased. Became heavier, went on for longer. And I was getting two tampons, one behind the other – don’t ask, it's a skill – plus a pad. Not comfortable at all.

That is when I met Tampax super. Not to bad. Better kind of material. Cotton they told me, when I asked. I didn’t like them though for one thing. They grew in length as they absorbed and would end up trying to get out of me. Who wants things sticking out. Not comfortable at all.

In my forties, I met Cottons. Made of cotton, and then shorter. It helped, but just for a while. Because, guess what – the uterus kicked it up another notch. Blood geysers. Lesso in handbag. Towel on bed. No-leak- period-panties were discussed, but I'd had it, had it, had it.

Was there a super super plus plus tampon? Pad?

I was at my wits end. Being disturbed all the time. Tampon in. Tampon out. Pad this. Pad that. This has been going on for too long, I thought. I started praying. Yes – we body parts pray. Lord, stop this. Enough of periods. End it. I know She will have to go through the menopausal hot sweating grumpy making monster causing thing, but I can live with that for a year or two. Please shittttopp!

Prayers are still unanswered. And she got herself a super super plus plus.  Yes it exits.

A cup. In March this year.

I didn’t hear the initial conversation – it must have been carried out by text – the sly She. But I was there when she was handed the cups. Small and a large. They had no medium. Which would have been a better starting point for a vagina my age and very large experience. I am funny! I am sure she would not like me saying that.

Anyway – I saw the cup, as it was being pushed up me.

Nice colour.

Purply.

Now how is that going to go in.

Fold this way, fold that way, jiggle it, juggle it.

Rubbery silicony?

Pop!

Is it in properly?

No – it is not up far enough.

Pull it out.

Put it in again.

What is this poking into me.

A stick like thing at the end.

I can feel it.

Noooo.

I do not like this.

Pull it out.

Put it in again.

What?

I have a leak.

Pull it out.

Put it in again.

I am getting sore.

This is not going to work.

Pull it out.

Put it in again.

Tighten your muscles, bear down and push up as you relax your muscles.

Good?

No.

Pull it out.

Put it in again.

I am sore.

Fingers fiddling me.

Twisting turning cup inside of me.

Stretching me.

I am sore.

C folds.

Push down fold.

Pull it out.

Put it in again.

I am sore.

I am going to shut down.

For true.

Leave me alone.

The pad!! Thank God. The pad.

I might get sick.

Too much fiddling, prodding, twisting, pushing.

She’s mattering.

Too much tissue use.

Too much water use.

Holes in cup have to be flushed with water too.

What soap is that?

Her hands are chapping.

Good for Her.

Maybe she will give up on this cup thing.

She’s at it again.

Put it in again.

Today.

The stem is shorter.

Not poking me at least.

But I can feel it.

But She has bad bad cramps.

Especially when she lies down.

This is day two.

She never ever has cramps on day two.

That will teach her.

For being all so nasty to me.

Pad it is.

Hot water bottle cramps.

Me warm now.

So warm.

And nasty horrid cup is out.

And gone.

I am not using it.

Day three.

Nooooo.

Put it in.

I kent.

I just kent.

I kif up.

Please pull it out.

Please?

Yes?

No.

The bladder and urethra pair in front side of me is complaining.

For real.

The cup is pressing them.

They feeling like releasing liquid all the time.

Waaaat?

They is taking the piss out on me.

For real.

Every so often.

No.

Please.

Like when She was preggers.

Maybe She is preggers?!

Uterus, any body home?

The bowels are complaining too.

Rumbling.

Noisy gas rumbling.

Getting backed up or something.

Apparently the cup is in the way of their output.

Pressing on the rectum.

Can’t expel anything.

The two systems have no idea what I have gone through?

Can they can it?

I’m still so funny.

I’ve broken fraternity with them.

The three exits club is done.

I’m making my own club of one.

After all I’m the only one of the three made for dual activity.

Yes – the in and out club of one.

She’s on the can again.

I’m getting funnier.

Number one.

Number two is a no show.

Oh boy!

Cramps are back.

More severe.

They are moving upwards into the abdomen.

Very strange.

She’s calling on God.

She’s also on a prayer line – for real.

She has called someone to pray for her.

What is wrong with Her.

Remove the cup.

I am going to expel it.

Cup is out.

Cup is boiled.

I hope She didn’t use the food pots.

I’d hoped it would burn.

But She held it off the sides.

Says She’s going to get a whisk to hold it.

Or better still – a cup steriliser.

Or just Miltons?

Cup is kept away.

God riddance.

26 days and a half later, here comes the red robot!

Attention.

The cup?!

She wouldn’t.

She would?

Yes.

She is.

Nooo!!!!!

Did she not learn?

Put it in.

In.

Silence.

Okay.

Maybe this may work?

No prodding.

No pulling.

No poking.

No twisting.

No fiddling.

And it’s been hours.

I think I like this.

Bladder silent.

Bowels.

Grumbling.

There is a always a party pooper – get it?

I am soo the funniest.

Or in this case “not pooper”.

Can’t poop with cup in.

Have to pull cup out to poop.

This not good for me.

Because prodding and fiddling.

Every bearing down movement made cup want to slide out.

Nearly popped out.

Or is it pooped out.

My funnies are killing me.

Literally though – it’s the cup.

For real.

I think I need to strengthen my muscles.

But I am old.

Tone is going.

Now bowels are annoyed.

They backed up.

Truths.

Day three now.

They used to be regular.

Once a day.

Latest zero nine hundred hours.

Salt water flash is something I heard mentioned.

They are in for it.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

How is this going to work?

She’s decided to wait until tomorrow when the red robots on the wane.

A bit pink.

Would have been way messy.

She is on the phone.

She keeps on saying one word – trauma.

It’s the cup seller.

What does “wee hunibamba” mean?

Seller said that She is her best client because of it.

We are in the bathroom.

Her fingers up in here.

Feeling around.

What is she doing?

This is not sex.

We not rolling.

Did I miss it?

Not uncomfortable, but really?

Touching the walls.

Sliding up one side and down the other.

Up the next side.

Past the cervix.

Back to the cervix.

Feeling it up.

Wants to know what that is.

Cervix is giggling.

Has a ruler next to her foot. 

I can see it.

Centimeters.

Low cervix is what she says.

What is that?

Day 27 and a half.

Hey periods.

Hey cup.

We keep on meeting.

Third time’s the charm I am sure.

The cup has a name.

She’s named it Kolekta.

So that they can be better pals.

And the cup can treat her kind.

I kent.

She talks to herself a lot.

Now she is talking to the cup.

The cup.

Asking it if it is male or female.

Or intersex.

I’m done.

Finger has been up here every day.

Touching things.

Measuring.

Apparently cervix is mobile.

Doesn’t stay at the top.

Or even at one point on my walls.

Moves up and down.

Mainly down.

We might need another kind of cup.

Nooo.

I just got used to this one.

Please no.

We can work with this one.

Have to have a talk with cervix.

Please – lives in my walls.

Must listen.

I’ll demand it.

New cup.

Big Black.

I’ve named it myself.

This one is androgynous.

Looks bad.

I have no idea from where.

I think it’s the large that came with Kolekta.

We back to fiddling and poking.

Prodding and what not.

Why can’t She leave well alone.

Capacity.

Yes – Big Black is the large.

Day two we gush.

It looks a lot.

And if the cup slips and falls.

Like a battle field.

But still couldn’t She have found a better looking cup?

Friendlier.

Stem cut.

Didn’t work.

Cup turned.

Seems to be working.

I’m getting used to the put in and pull out.

Cervix not trying to be suctioned out.

Or maybe She is getting better at it.

I just had a thought.

Thank God her nails are short.

Otherwise where would I be?

Pinched?

Ripped?

Tored up?

Is that a word?

Ouch.

Cramps still there.

On alternate period.

She has one ovary that gets off on pain.

Plus the stubborn cervix.

Just likes moving up and down.

Instead of opening up right.

Didn’t do it even during the birthing thing.

Spared me a wrecking thrashing then though.

Cramping.

Not as bad as before.

Maybe will go with time.

The best deal was – this one time, at band camp.

Felt a wetness and wondering what that was.

And it was blood.

With no pain.

Has never ever happened.

She was rejoicing all over.

I might like Big Black after all.

And this time.

We did it.

Flew solo.

Apart from the two oopsies She spoke about.

We cupanatics now.

We will never use anything else.

We, or rather She, is still looking for our goldilocks.

That’s what the cup community call their best fit, best use cup.

She thinks she has found it.

And will order it.

Or maybe try something else different.

A thing called a menstrual disk.

Oh my oh my oh my.

But it can only get better from here.

She is telling everyone about the cup.

So, I thought I’d add my five senses to it.

Get it?

I’m the funniverest everest!

”