Warning: I talk about menstruation in this post. And I don’t call it Aunt Flo.
Back in the magical, mythical days when I could not possibly go more than six days without having sex, I started using the Instead Cup (a menstrual cup) so that I could have sex when I was on my period. Then I got lazy (and someone may or may not have referred to it as a cup of salsa and I may or may not have died over that image) and switched back to tampons.
Anyway last weekend in Houston, Tanis was all “Look at what I have!” And I was all, “Ew, is that beet jello?” (Long story.) But it wasn’t, it was a bag of Diva Cups. (I never got around to asking why she had a bag of Diva Cups.)
Now that I’m a big somewhat-environmentally-conscious grownup I figured it might be a good idea to try menstrual cups again. So I asked her for one. And she gave me what is basically an extra large one since ladies who have had babies apparently have extra large cervixes or something. (Long-suffering sigh.)
Then I came home and forgot about it until I went bugshit crazy for two days and decided I’d developed sudden onset clinical depression and then got my period. Then I honestly went bounding across the house to my husband’s office at 10 pm like, “I GOT MY PERIOD!” He didn’t seem ultra impressed by this since we haven’t had sex since my last period since I had the sinus infection of doom for three entire weeks and it wasn’t like we needed to be worried about my period coming or not so I explained that it meant I had only been getting pissed and/or crying about everything he said because of hormone poisoning, not normal craziness! Sorry babe!
Anyway last night after I showered I realized I hadn’t unpacked my bag from the conference so I unpacked it and saw the Diva Cup and decided to give it a try. First impression? It’s pretty big. I mean, it’s not like, huge but it isn’t small either. I went over to the bathroom and read the complicated directions. (Folding U-shaped, U-shaped edge, horizontal, popping open, turning clockwise.) (WHAT THE FUCK.)
I gave it a heave ho. And then a hmmmm.
Right when I realized that A. it hadn’t popped open and B. oh my God oh my God oh my God it is stuck in my vagina forever I’m going to end up at the ER trying to get a Diva Cup out my SON WALKS IN and totally ignores me standing there in my nightgown with both hands between my legs and he says, “Oh, hi, I’m just getting a book to read.” And he grabs the book and walks right back out.
Deep breath.
I manage to get the Diva Cup out and by that point I’m just sore and pissed off and convinced that my cervix is not where cervixes should be or something. (To be fair to my vaginal credibility cervix, it is posterior or something or tilted or something, whatever that means. My brain kind of glazes over when someone spelunking in my ladybits tries to talk to me.)
I washed my hands and the Diva Cup and ran over to the computer to blame this all on Tanis. She said I could share our DM conversation so you know I’m not making this up. I had to paste my head onto what I said because Twitter is weird:
So you’ve heard it straight from the Redneck Mommy. Eventually the scary Diva Cup becomes easy peasy. Me? 
I’m going back to chlorine-filled fiber-depositing environmentally-unfriendly tampons and my Diva Cup is going into time out in the medicine chest.
Oh oh oh, and the best part? We’re about to start watching Caprica last night and my husband asks, “What is a Diva Cup?” I yelped, “DO NOT GOOGLE IT” so of course he did. And that is why you should block your husband on Twitter shouldn’t tweet about menstrual cups if your husband follows you on Twitter. Otherwise you will destroy the illusion that you magically never got your period in college. Sigh.
This may or may not be related:
