Rebecca Comeau (Graphics Contributor)
Now, upon first hearing the term “DivaCup,” one would naturally assume that I’m referring to some kind of exclusive rhinestone chalice, crafted for human Barbie dolls or a fancy pre-drink, but that’s where you’re wrong. It’s better than that. It’s so much better than that.
A DivaCup (one kind of menstrual cup) is a silicone, funnel-shaped cup used when menstruating. It makes menstruation a fun, environmentally-friendly experience for you and the whole female gang! As self-proclaimed ring leader, I want to change the way you see your period.
As of right now, your period sucks. Your period is that downer friend, holding you back from the dance floor. Your period is the sudden heavy snowfall on a spring day. All in all, your period is a bitch. But that’ll all change after purchasing your new menstrual cup. “How?” you may ask. Well, because I’m clearly obsessed with my own, and trying to indoctrinate you, that’s how.
I first purchased my DivaCup several months ago. For $39.99, I was relieved from the financial burden of tampons and pads for the next 10 years. It even included a pink pouch and a flower pin reading “diva,” which I wear every day to show how far I’ve come since my first period.
At the first sign of bloodshed, I was elated to use my new product. Baffled by its size — seemingly too big to fit and too small to maintain the flow (each cup holds one ounce) — I referred to the provided pamphlet for assistance; it featured graphics of women in prime insertion positions, all who seemed to be struggling as much as I was. I took comfort in relating to the cartoon women and eventually figured out the strategic U-shaped folding necessary for shoving a rubber funnel up my vagina.
Once inserted, the menstrual cup sits about half an inch inside your vagina. It adheres to the inner wall through suction, securing its placement and prevents any leakage. It can be worn for up to 12 hours, so you can avoid frantic trips to the washroom or waking up to a horrific crime scene. Getting the thing out, however, is a whole ‘nother shit show.
The first thing they don’t tell you is to push. Push like you’re giving birth to a Smurf. That thing has secured its position far sturdier than any life or career choice I’ve ever made. Once the bottom tip is poking out, you can (carefully) clench the end with your fingertips and (really carefully) pull it out. Seriously, be careful. The last thing you want to do is spill period blood all over the floor.
After I removed my DivaCup I got a chance to greet Aunt Flow up close and personal. “Take this, for this is my blood,” I whispered to myself as I poured out the contents. After rinsing with water and soap, I reinserted and carried on like a true warrior princess. Periods didn’t stop Xena from living her life and I’ll be damned if it stops me.
Another reason I was so inclined to use a menstrual cup is my crippling fear of toxic shock syndrome (caused by leaving tampons in too long); anytime I insert a tampon I’m panicking internally, praying TSS won’t claim me right then and there. Luckily, with a DivaCup, I live stress-free.
So take my hand, and join the menstrual movement. Too long have we endured the discomfort of tampons and pads. Too long have we accumulated a disposable wasteland. Rise up and toast, DivaCup in hand, because “being a woman just got easier.”
