I Hate My Diva Cup: and I can’t be the only one

So I consider myself a pretty crunchy mom. Cloth diapering (mostly), vegan (mostly), cosleeping, breastfeeding, organic eating, totally non GMO, home made as much as possible, baltic amber wearing, daily yoga (mostly), oil cleansing method and I totally have a salt lamp in every room. Like I said pretty crunchy. On the scale from modern prepackaged living to unshaven Earth mother I feel like I have reached a happy (and maintainable) middle ground.

Then there is Aunt Flo. Every month I would use horrible plastic pads (I have always hated tampons and refused to use them) and every month I lament the waste, the damage to the environment and the plastic and chemicals I am putting against my most sensitive of lady bits. About 2 years ago I decided that  I needed to change my non crunchy period ways and go with something more sustainable.

Hello Diva Cup.

Everything I had read had been amazing. It was changing women’s lives! Everyone loves theirs. What could go wrong?

It sat in the box for 6 months. I finally tried it once, it leaked. Back to the box.

Then, one day, I was talking to a friend and Aunt Flo came up in conversation.  Once again, this was the best thing ever! How am I not using it? It’s a total period deal changer.

Back out of the box. Perhaps I judged it to harshly the first time. We all have to get used to things. Maybe I needed to use it for a few days and get used to it. After all, everyone else on the planet loves theirs.

First day I was very impressed, actually. It did leak a little, but overall I felt very positive and optimistic about having a brighter future where being a chick doesn’t totally suck for a few days every month.

The next morning everything went wrong. THE DAMN THING WOULD NOT COME OUT. Slippery, weird angle, and that little tiny post with the little tiny ridges is simply impossible to grab hold of. So there I am, on the toilette  trying to extract a little plastic shot glass out of my girly parts. My kids in the next room watching Peppa Pig or something equally mind numbing. All kinds of thoughts went through my mind at that moment. None of them were panicky, yet. I abandoned efforts for a moment to regroup and breath. At this moment I thought that maybe standing up and jumping up and down would help. It did not. I actually considered tweezers but I couldn’t find them. I have a small pair of needle nose pliers in the kitchen I use to debone fish, hmmmm. OK. Time to google.

I rejoined my children on the couch, phone in hand, and started to consult the greatest wealth of information in the history of the world. The advise ranged from worth a try to downright scary. Shower and squat down, have a partner go in for an extraction, crochet hook (yikes), masturbation in the hope that the contractions would help dislodge it, I went with the shower. The other advise seemed horrific and I needed a shower anyway.

I did what the good people in the internet said to do, because one should always do what the good people of the internet tells one to do. Squat and go in after it. Nope. Again, the little bastard would not come out. So I’m standing there in the shower regretting every life decision I have ever made because they had all led me to this point. How did I allow this to happen? So this was how I was going to spend my day? Random trips in to the bathroom in an attempt to remove this stupid thing from my girl bits all ending with a trip to the hospital (because that wouldn’t be uncomfortable at all). Great. Lovin life.  Then I hear my daughter banging on the door screaming that she had to pee. Ok. What now?

Get dressed and start to panic. Message a friend who attempts to calm me down. Open a beer. So this is me at 10:00 am: sitting on the floor of the living room playing with my kids, trying hard not cry, and drinking a beer and having a texting conversation with my friend about my inability to remove my Diva Cup. I have an alien object wedged into my naughty bits and I had no clue how to proceed from here.

I finished my beer and decided to go in for another attempt. I gave myself a pre toilette pep talk in the mirror, did some deep breathing in an attempt to relax and went in.
Victory! Stupid plastic little thing! You will not win! I’m in charge here!

But because I never seem to learn a lesson the first time I let my very dear friend and total Diva Cup fan talk me into giving it another try. After all, I’m still learning. These things take time. Happens to everyone.

OK. Sure.

So I spent the rest of the day at home playing with my kids in total domestic bliss. Every now and then I would giggle a bit at my silliness of the morning. Pliers, really? What was I thinking? I can’t believe I panicked like that! Such, such silliness.

After all, these things happen. I went the rest of the day without incident.

Skip ahead to later that night. I’m still wearing the thing. I’m at a friends house, the same friend who had convinced me to keep trying. I stood up and noticed that the stupid little thing had leaked. a lot. Pants possible ruined.

Seriously. I’m done.

I love that people love their Diva Cup. I’m so happy for them. But, just no.

Back to the box.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 Comments on “I Hate My Diva Cup: and I can’t be the only one

    • Thanks! I almost didn’t write it but I felt the situations was just to ridiculous not to share.

      Another brand is a good idea. I did switch to cloth pads and really like them overall but they are so bulky I feel like I’m wearing a diaper.

      Like

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