It’s 2017 and things seem like they’re changing. While the election of President Trump (and all ensuing events) may seem like garden sheers to the otherwise budding tree of women’s progress, change showed itself in the form of countless organizers who took to the streets to advocate for women’s rights on day one of Trump’s presidency. Gender and sexuality are perhaps as free flowing as ever, and some women have not only stopped shaving their armpit hair, but have begun dying it vibrant colors for all to enjoy.
This revolution seems to have reached the realm of feminine hygiene practices, which in light of these changes, may seem slightly archaic to some. For those who may not know, there is another, more ecological, economical, and arguably healthier alternative to the standard tampon, and it’s called the DivaCup. It is a small, reusable menstrual cup that functions generally like a tampon, but instead of disposing of it, you simply empty it out, clean it, and use it again.
If you’re like me, you have not exactly been looking to spice up your menstrual care routine. But upon hearing about the DivaCup, I thought, it’s 2017! I’m young, I’m progressive, I care about the environment. Why not? Welp, as it turns out, there are many reasons why not. Here is a comprehensive account of my struggle told in five stages.
The Lead Up: I acquired the DivaCup a few weeks before I could actually put it to use, and without thinking about it, just kept it unpackaged on my dresser. It certainly did not go unnoticed. Most visitors proved to be quite curious, picking it up and squishing it in their hands before even asking what it was. After a couple awkward explanations, I thought about putting it away, but then honeslty it just became fun.
The Insertion: The most perplexing thing about the DivaCup is the question of how the eff the thing gets in your body. The directions say to fold it into a sort of ‘U’ shape, but let me tell you, you may want to take a few origami lessons before you get your hands on this thing. Utilizing the full dexterity of literally all my fingers, I finally managed to fold the cup into an acceptable shape. It was supposed to be as easy as inserting a tampon, but it was more reminiscent of trying to fit a paper plate into those dumb circular holes in the recycling bin.
Putting it to Use: As for the actual wearing it around part, it functioned pretty much just like a regular tampon. If inserted correctly, the ‘no leak’ promise actually hold up pretty well. Surprisingly, despite the thing looking like the literal holy grail, you can’t really feel it any more than you would a tampon. I felt a little like I was clenching onto some big secret, or carrying out some covert mission with my uterine walls, but it only took like five minues for me to realize no one cared.
Emptying it: This was truly the scary part. I couldn’t really fathom how pulling out a cup of blood from my own crotch wasn’t going to look like the end of a Tarantino movie, but rest assured, it was not as difficult as one might imagine. A slight pinch and a little patience, and the cup came right out. Just like a tampon, I think practice makes perfect, but this is what I was picturing:
Final Thoughts: It takes some getting used to, but overall it’s pretty worth it. The thing comes at a pretty steep $25, but in the long run, it could save you a ton of money on tampons or pads. It also changes the game for camping or for those who may live somewhere where tampons are not available. Listen, it’s weird, it’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s good for the environment and it’s probably pretty good for female empowerment. So, go forth and find your inner diva.