Switching To A Menstrual Cup Was The Greatest Thing I Ever Did For My Vagina
by Vanessa Kass
We’ve all been there.
A classroom, an office, a bar. A friend, acquaintance, or perfect stranger comes up to you, nervously and quietly asking if you have a tampon or a pad. If you have one? You give it. Freely. Happily. Your new friend quickly grabs it and walks away. She has her period and her protection has failed her. All women have been on both sides of that quiet conversation.
Aside from the obvious potential disaster of stained clothes with no spares in sight, a women’s menstrual cycle is nothing to be ashamed of and should not be spoken about in hushed tones. OBVIOUSLY.
But it is. For most of us.
As someone who is fairly open about every aspect of her life, my friends were shocked to hear that I now use a menstrual cup and washable pads. So even for me, it wasn’t something I really talked about.
I was late to this party. She arrived well after my 16th birthday and I was furious at her tardiness. If only I had known what was in store for me.
My period made up for its late arrival with a vengeance.
Damn thing would show up whenever she wanted. No rhyme or reason. Just drop by and overstay her welcome. I had cramps that would keep me out of school and a blood flow that seemed…concerning. Pads were a no-go for me. They weren’t absorbent enough and as a dancer, they weren’t really conducive to being worn under tights and a leotard.
So shortly after I got my period, I was on birth control to regulate its timing, and in my bathroom looking at my mother like she had lost her mind as she tried to “teach” me how to use a tampon. I don’t know an easier or gentler way to do it; it might just be one of those rites of passage that leaves scars.
I used tampons for decades.
Never the light flow ones of my lucky friends. Nope. I needed the big tampons. The super extra mondo tampons. Along with a pad. A super extra thick mondo pad. You see what I am getting at? They never really worked for me. But after years of praying that I wouldn’t get up from my chair at a cafe only to reveal a small murder scene beneath me, I knew something had to give.
I tried the Mirena IUD, which did not work for me. I decided to try the Paraguard next. It is a hormone-free, copper-based IUD. The one commonly experienced drawback? Increased flow. Yep. Your girl who already could not count on a super+ tampon-pad combo to do the trick was gonna roll the dice. I rolled. It was…bad. Even with frequent changes, lessened physical activity, a towel where I slept and ever increasing absorbency levels, I was rarely accident free. And let me be clear, lessened physical activity was not postponing hikes. It was looking at the flight of stairs I can no longer avoid and hoping for the best.
I started to add up the money I was spending. I had to order my tampons on Amazon— they don’t often carry the size I need in the stores, of course. The total wasn’t pretty. I was doing laundry like I was in high school again – underwear, pants, sheets. I was caught in more than one mortifying experience where I prayed I would get home before anyone would see my protection had failed again.
I was too old and tired for this shit and I was over it.
So I got a menstrual cup.
After trying to conceive and birthing three children, my nether regions were much less of a mystery to me. Having to really get in there to make sure that cup was secure did not give me the heebie-jeebies. They seemed simple and there are tons of options. Even Target has two different companies on their shelves now. Well-rated ones!
While achieving success was a steeper learning curve than The Empress, I was happy. I liked that it was medical grade silicone. I wasn’t freaking out about TSS if it was left in “too long.” It was safe, dye-free, fiber-free, scent-free and reusable. It was one small item. Instead of multiple containers, boxes, and all of that trash.
What I did not expect was the absolute shock of how much it…collects. My friend also used one and we joked that the first few go ‘rounds, we were sure we were dying. And when I say “joked,” I of course mean that I truly thought I was dying. There may have also been a rather sizable clot that someone sent a photo of to their midwife to make sure I, I mean they, weren’t hemorrhaging to their early death. The cup doesn’t absorb like a tampon. It collects and has to be emptied into the toilet. You have been warned.
It took some time to adequately place it with consistency. The first one I had, you just fold in half, take a deep breath, and insert it. Once you get the cup close to your cervix it opens up. I was, literally, a year into this when I learned to give the cup a turn to seal it securely. It helps create the vacuum. A year. I did, and it worked.
The second cup I tried had to be folded differently. I did not know that at first. The increased size meant you had to fold the lip in and THEN fold the cup in half and insert it. This is one of those times when reading directions before use would have been hugely helpful.
Inserting it is one thing, no? How about removal? It was scary. The cup is up there and vacuum sealed. You pull on the string or loop and empty the contents into the toilet. Sometimes it helps to depress one side of the cup to break the vacuum. Because of mechanics, the cup empties into the bowl as it is removed. Was I scared of an American Psycho scenario? Yes. Has it come to pass? No. I actually find the removal of the cup to be cleaner and easier than a tampon. Truth.
“was I scared of an American Psycho scenario? Yes. Has it come to pass? No.
”
In the beginning, I was too scared to use it for my entire period because I wasn’t quite sure how I would change it in public. It is not a clean process. You are bleeding. There is washing, by hand, involved. I was still nervous about placement and leaks. I used the cup at home and my tampon-pool float-prayer method in public. But after about four months, I was a total convert. It was cheaper, cleaner, easier and better overall. Now I can change them in public. BUT I also bring along wipes. I clean my hands so as not to terrify anyone else in the bathroom. Then give my hands a good wash in the sink. I am a mom of three. I always have wipes on hand. If you convert to menstrual cups, so should you.
Then it was a matter of the pad. I didn’t love the cost or environmental impact of pads or tampons. I live in an old house and tampons cannot be flushed. They shouldn’t be, anyway. Every month I would see the garbage I was generating over the course of my cycle. It was too much. So I searched washable liners. Now I routinely use two types. Ones that fit into my underwear like a normal pad.
The other fits into the labial folds as an extremely light layer of protection. I know. The words. The imagery. I get it. This is wayyy out there. And frankly, I don’t even remember how I came upon them. But they work. These petal shaped pads fit between the labia to help direct flow to your pad. Or absorb it if the flow is light enough. It would be cool if my dad didn’t read this article. BUT, these pads work.
And for the other vaginal delivery mommas out there, these also help when you have a coughing fit or a big laugh and wet your pants. Please note, you may forget you have that one in and use the bathroom. It will fall into the toilet. It is up to you whether you pretend it didn’t happen and flush or fish it out. No judging here. They come in a pack. Ahem.
Interlabial pads.
Image from Fialuna
Now, you might think this is a resounding success story. It is not. The initial cup that I ordered did not have a large enough capacity. Even though it fit well, there was still some overflow. Not ideal, obviously. But Vanessa, how would you know that? Well, like the IUDs, you don’t know until you try.
I started with the Lunette, a mid-size soft-sided cup. It had good reviews for both collection and placement. Often, the larger the capacity, the more sturdy the sides of the cup i.e. the harder to place. Once I knew I needed more capacity, I went with a Merula. I am so glad I worked my way up to this mamma jamma. It is visibly larger, the sides are stiffer, and the insertion is not for beginners. I am almost a year into this larger cup and I rarely even wear a pad.
Ok, what about LIFE?
I get it. With these cups and my pads, if needed, I can live. I can be active, play with my kids, swim and move from horizontal to upright without fear. I do not have sex with a cup in. The “pull tab” is not super soft. It is not painful for your partner but it IS there.
If you are looking for mess-free protection during sex, try Flex. Your partner may feel the plastic but won’t get…poked. I know friends who use these with success. Yay. But they don’t have a large enough capacity for me and I found their seal to be less secure than the cups.
As for cup and pad care? I boil my cups and store them in their cloth bags between cycles. Again, mom of three. I am unphased by the boiling. If you don’t want to use a cooking pot, try a micro clean sanitizing bag. For the pads, I use Rockin Green Soap. I discovered this soap to be the best for cleaning our cloth diapers (Wow. How did I not see labial pads coming?) and now it is the only detergent we use as a family. I wash them and hang them on the line to dry. The sun is also an excellent sanitizer and disinfectant. Am I embarrassed? Not really. Why the hell are you peeping my laundry line? Mind your business.
“i am a total convert. I am not washing laundry like a mortified teenager. I rarely need pads anymore. Plus, the cost-saving is huge. ”
Overall? I am a convert.
I am not washing laundry like a mortified teenager. I am a pro at taking care of it in public. REMEMBER THE WIPES. I rarely need the pads anymore. Plus, the cost-saving is huge. I could go through one 30 pack of organic tampons a period at $7. With pads, let’s say my period protection is $8 a month. Not counting extra laundry or new undies. If I get my period 12 times a year, that’s $96 for the year. Seems reasonable.
BUT my cup ($36) and pads (labial at 13 for $14 and standard pads at 3 for $15) come in at $65 for multiple years. Even if I only get three years out of my reusable set (don’t wrinkle your nose, how old are your fave undies!?) that’s less than $22 a year.
Solid win in every category.
And while I am appreciative of all the healthier and safer tampon options out there, I am really happy with my cup and pads. Their success also allows me to remain on a hormone-free birth control which is important to me. Do I still get surprised when I see how much the cup collects or see a concerning clot? Yes, yes, I do. But my “friend” doesn’t send pics to her midwife anymore and I can walk up the fucking stairs without fear.
That being said, I still carry tampons and pads in my purse, for a friend or a stranger. We are all in this together.
Vanessa Kass is a writer, teacher and mindset mentor. She lives in Connecticut with her three children, husband, and menagerie of animals. You can find more of her articles here.
At The Candidly, we recommend things we truly love, and that we think you’ll love. Sometimes, our friends recommend their favorite things, too. All details reflect the price and availability of products at the time of publication. If you buy something we link to, The Candidly may earn a commission.
We have to eat.
This article is for informational purposes only. It is not intended to be used in place of professional advice, medical treatment, or professional care in any way. This article is not intended to be and should not be a substitute for professional care, advice or treatment. Please consult with your physician or healthcare provider before changing any health regimen. This article is not intended to diagnose, treat, or prevent disease of any kind. Read our Terms & Conditions and Privacy Policy.
