The only feminine hygiene product you’ll ever need

The menstrual cup, or as my 11 year old brother calls it, muff plunger.

You’ve heard of it, but you don’t really get it and it sounds kinda gross and you don’t know where to buy them from so you just kinda don’t.

Ever since I bought my own menstrual cup 2.5 years ago, I try to surreptitiously bring up the topic to my female friends (usually unsuspecting coworkers), attempting, and usually failing, to convert them to The Way Of The Cup. So, it’s high time I wrote an elaborate blog post putting forth my case.

I can honestly tell you that the m-cup changed my period/life – and this is a common statement from cup users. It’s more comfortable, more convenient, cheaper, safer, sexier, way better for the environment, and generally makes me feel like I don’t even have my period.

I want as many other menstruating humans as possible to experience the liberation of the m-cup.

Piqued your curiosity yet?

The (F)low-down

What: A (usually) silicone flexible bell-shaped cup that you wear internally, the m-cup collects rather than absorbs your monthly rosy shedding. It’s reusable, designed to last up to 10 years, and holds three times as much as a tampon or pad.

How: Fold like a soft taco, squeeze into your taco, and allow to open to form a seal. There’s many ways to fold it, and it can get surprisingly small. Once you learn the best way to do this for you, it’s rather easy. (See the resources below for handy hints). It may look quite big compared to a tampon, but no worries, vaginas have magical stretchy properties.

When inserted correctly, there shouldn’t be any leakage and you shouldn’t be able to feel it. I repeat: you can’t feel it inside of you. Further, it can be left in for up to 10-12 hours (depending on your flow). That’s a whole waking day without worrying about leakage, or funky smells, or having to change gross tampons for fear of toxic shock syndrome... If that doesn’t make for cruisy crimson surf conditions I don’t know what does.

The Argument For

So why make the switch? Because the benefits of this thing are truly endless. In a randomized controlled trial comparing menstrual cups to tampons, satisfaction for the m-cup was higher, and 91% of women who tried it said they would continue using it and recommend it to others.

Comfort & Convenience

In addition to the fact that you can’t feel it and you can leave it in worry-free all day, you can’t see it and can consequently do pretty much any physical activity whilst wearing it. It is perfect for all sports, especially activities such as hiking or skiing, as it doesn’t need to be frequently changed. For anything involving swimwear, there’s no risk of a little string peeking out. And golly gosh, for travel there is nothing so convenient as your whole menstrual kit being a teeny little cup – not only does it save bag room, but say goodbye to awkwardly trying to locate a convenience store on a Croatian island or Vietnamese countryside when Aunty Flo visits unexpectedly. In fact, say goodbye to emergency tampon-hunts ever again, no matter your geographical location – when the red moon is rising, just whip out your m-cup, bby. Furthermore, some women say that using an m-cup actually reduces cramping.

It will save you cash dollars

The average Australian woman’s annual expenditure on tampons and pads is between AU$120-$200. Menstrual cups cost between AU$40-$60. Whilst an initial outlay, they last for 5-10 years – you do the math, hunni.

Safety and peace of mind

Tbh, you’re pretty safe with disposables. But the m-cup definitely gives me peace of mind in the safety department. Made from medical-grade, hypoallergenic silicone, the m-cup has none of the chemicals contained in other period products. There has been one very rare documented case of TSS associated with the menstrual cup – but it is still considered very safe. As it collects rather than absorbs, your natural moisture is retained and your pH levels remain in balance – goodbye itchy dryness. A benefit of this is that it is safe to wear the cup if you’re spotting, or in anticipation of getting your period.

Less messy sexy times

You can’t have vaginal sex whilst wearing your cup, however, you can still do all other sexies that don’t involve finger-or-penis-or-whatever-else-you-may-be-into-in-vagina. You and your partner can capitalise on that characteristic period-lustfulness and rest assured that there is no extra mess to deal with (if blood during sexy times ain’t really your thang).

Good for you AND the planet

This, for me, is the most important point. I believe we have a moral imperative to do what we can to address climate change, and reducing our carbon footprint and waste is one of the most tangible things we can do.

The average woman throws away between 110 to 135kg of feminine hygiene products in her lifetime, and approximately 9600 tampons are used in the menstrual life of a tampon-user – that’s a helluva lot of landfill. The production and disposal process of tampons and pads is also quite impactful, including the water-intensive production of cotton, harsh chemicals including pesticides & herbicides, chlorine, rayon and dioxins, non-biodegradable plastic wrappings, and transportation costs. Admittedly, almost everything we buy has an environmental cost, but for something as regular and unavoidable as periods, it is worth choosing an option with minimal environmental impact.

It’s also worth considering the relationship between disposable products, capitalism and consumerism. Disposables sustain the need for us to keep buying them, creating endless purchasing for us, and profit for capitalist companies. Reusable products, however, defy the consumerist mantra of buy-buy-buy. So, if you wanna bleed and Fuck The System whilst doing it…

Sounds Awesome – Now what?

Who: Brands include Lunette, Diva Cup (the most popular), JuJu (Australian-made), Moon Cup, MeLuna and Keeper Cup, among many others. Make sure to read the instructions specific to the brand as they all differ slightly! I use Lunette and would strongly recommend it. Lunette comes in pretty colours, is a little shorter in length (better for those with low cervixes), and has a longer stem which can assist with removal. Tip: stems can be trimmed for better fitting.

Where: You can check out this website which includes useful info, cup comparisons, and where you can buy cups for quick Australian delivery: www.menstrualcupsaustraliaonline.com.au. For those in the Wollongong area, you can find Lunette at Martin’s Pharmacy Corrimal, or Flametree Co-Op in Thirroul.

FAQs

It sounds too difficult, other options seem way easier…

There is definitely a learning curve that needs to be overcome when first using the m-cup. But using a tampon wasn’t easy at first either. The initial buying and learning does take a bit of time and effort, and it does take longer to insert/remove, but you get used to it after maybe 2-3 cycles and for a whole day’s worth of bleeding-fanny-freedom IT IS SO WORTH IT.

Does it hurt?

No. Or at least, it shouldn’t, when inserted correctly. Follow the instructions of your specific cup brand, check out some online tips, and if it does continue to hurt, consult a medical professional.

What if I have to change it when in public?

You can avoid this most of the time, as the cup can be left in for up to 12 hours. Definitely wear a pantyliner when you’re first starting in case of leaks. If you do find you need to empty the cup whilst out and about, and can’t find a self-contained bathroom, you can take a bottle of water into the cubicle for rinsing. You can also simply wipe with toilet paper and rinse later when you have more privacy. Wipes specifically designed for cleaning menstrual cups are available for purchase. 

Isn’t it gross and messy?

Yes and no. I personally don’t find it any more ‘gross’ than a tampon, although it is more hands-on. You have to get up close and personal with your vag. You probably definitely will get blood on your hands, especially when you clean it. One way to make it less messy is to empty and clean the cup in the shower – but in fact it’s really much less messy than you’d think! Although slightly confronting at first, after a few times using it, you don’t really care about the supposed ‘ick factor’ (because there are bigger things in life to care about). I actually liked getting more intimate with my period – I see it as a benefit. It’s pretty cool to see how much blood falls out of you each day, and I feel like I understand my body better. It discourages body-shame and encourages body-love and, I would even say, empowerment. If the whole idea of blood and vagina freaks you out… half of me wants to tell you that there’s nothing to be scared of, it’s natural, it’s fundamentally you, get over it because environment, and embrace the opportunity to overcome your ingrained shame and disgust over naturally occurring bodily functions that are crucial to the existence of humankind. And the other part of me says, no worries girl, it’s your choice.

Helpful resources:

The blog post accompanying the above video, including all your need-to-know info about m-cups

10 tips for first time menstrual cup users (by Menstrual Cups Australia)

Troubleshooting & Tips (by JuJu)

A video by Lunette demonstrating the different types of folds for cup insertion

Put A Cup In It – Quiz that suggests your perfect m-cup (plus lots of other useful info)

Virgins and Menstrual Cups – A great resource about choice considerations including sizing, culture, and personal beliefs

Header illustration by Jim Cooke.

What A Really Right Wing American Taught Me About Tolerance

 

I met him whilst playing Disney Trivia at a nation student society in Uppsala. The American.
It started friendly, although I noticed he was a bit odd. He talked loudly, made unfunny jokes, and was arrogant. He kept talking in Swedish although no one in our group spoke it. He directed the conversation where he wanted:

THE AMERICAN: *does a really bad Australian accent* How was that?
ME: Yeah, pretty good! I’d give it a 7/10. Have you been to Australia?
THE AMERICAN: *does a really bad Australian accent again* What about now? I think that was better.
ME: Oh…yeah maybe.
THE AMERICAN: I think I’m better at English though. *does a really bad English accent*

But he was American, so I didn’t think much of it. At this point I still thought he was fairly “normal”, if kind of annoying to talk to, and “nice enough”, meaning I could tolerate hanging with him.

But then, eventually, we talked politics, because small talk can only interest me for so long, and we were both on the edge of the group, and trivia was taking forever. I mentioned I thought Bernie Sanders seemed okay. He immediately lifted up his hand and made a snipping motion with his fingers directed towards his crotch.

ME: Haha, what’s that supposed to mean?
THE AMERICAN: He’s a cuckold.
I was confused, and slightly shocked at the crudeness.
ME: What makes him a cuckold?
THE AMERICAN: He looks after someone else’s kids. *snipping motion*.

I was truly dumbfounded by this statement. !?!?!?!? What!? Of course, I defended Sanders and step-fathers the world over as best I could, saying that if anything that made him more of a man, as he loves his wife so much he loves everything about her, children included, and that he’s willing to put jealousy aside. But my opinions weren’t even to be considered as he just shook his head and continued to make that disgusting snipping motion. Apparently, man’s sole purpose in life is to reproduce, and he cannot respect anyone who doesn’t choose this path. I ask: So someone without kids is less of a person? The answer: Yes. And yes, that includes infertile people.

Realising what kind of person I was sitting next to, of course, I had to probe. Admittedly, I was kind of excited. I’d never encountered someone with such different world views to me, and I was interested to hear his opinion on other hot topics. Maybe understand the conservative way of thinking a bit more.

So what did I found out?

• He likes Donald Trump. Thinks he is “no bullshit”.
• Guns are needed to “ protect us from the tyranny of government”.
• He has to be the captain, and his wife is the first mate. Can’t she be the co-captain? No, because *snipping motion*. And also, because he’s seen no examples of good female leaders. None. Oh, except maybe Marie Curie. Maybe. (He said this as the only male in a group of 6 females. Arrogance, disrespect, or a complete lack of social awareness? I’m betting all three.)
• Thoughts on feminism? I would dance on the graves of feminists. (Literal direct quote).
• The jury’s out on climate change.

What had started as shock, curiosity and amusement quickly turned to anger and frustration. I couldn’t say anything, because he couldn’t care less about my thoughts. My hands were literally shaking and I felt physically ill. I tried to pretend he wasn’t there. I couldn’t even look at him. I wanted nothing to do with him, to never see him again. My whole body was on edge, like my fight/flight mechanism had been triggered, and I couldn’t sleep that night because I had this weird sort of adrenalin rush. I waited until 3am just to vent for an hour to my boyfriend.

The great thing about travel and exchange is getting to meet people from all over the world, with differing opinions, values and cultures. Usually I love this, especially when the conversation gets juicy – politics, religion, social issues, etc – I love understanding other’s views so that I can further develop my own. So I was actually surprised to find out that I had my limits. It made me question my belief in myself as a tolerant and open minded person.

In the aftermath of The American, I almost felt disappointed in myself, guilty, for being too caught up in my own shock and anger to really try to understand his views. Am I not tolerant enough of people different than me? Am I actually close minded? …But surely I shouldn’t I have to tolerate these views without challenging them, or being frustrated? I kept using this word tolerance until I was really confused. Is tolerance a good or a bad thing? It sounds both positive and passive. What does it even mean?

Tolerance: 1. To allow the existence, presence, practice, or act of without prohibition or hindrance; permit.
2. To endure without repugnance; put up with. (Random House Dictionary)

With this double definition I could identify the problem I had with the word: it means two different things. “Without prohibition” and “without repugnance” are two seperate meanings entirely. We should tolerate, but we should not tolerate. We should allow freedom of expression; but we should not endure or put up with this freedom of expression without allowing ourselves the opportunity to disagree or disapprove. I think, regarding The American, that’s what I tried to do – achieve a tolerance balance between expression and disagreement. I will tolerate, but I will not tolerate. And I think that’s a good thing to try to achieve.

So that’s what the really right-wing, traditional, conservative, annoying American taught me about tolerance.

greetings weblings

I took this for this at 3am so that you know what I look like.

I guess I should introduce myself, starting by telling you that I hate introducing myself. I get flustered and worry if I seem cool, and all of a sudden you’ve said your name and I don’t hear it and I have to sneakily ask someone else for it later.

My name is Maneesha. My name is Indian. I am not, but I am a quarter Chinese and I have three moles in a straight line on the inside of my elbow. This concludes the interesting facts about me.

I’m currently at Wollongong Uni studying Arts/Communications and Media, the latter a course which conveniently dictates that I keep a blog. Convenient because I started this blog for personal reasons literally days before attending my first lecture. Others warn not to mix the personal and the professional, but it’s all me, is it not? God. They make it sound as if I’m boring.

On why I chose BCM – I regularly find myself in existential agony, but if there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that I want to leave this world a better place than which I entered it. Considering the wide platform of communication and personal expression that different media offers, I think it may be my best bet.

Despite my passion for living, recently my life has been largely structure-less and without motivation; I’m nocturnal, and I spend most of my time awake watching Parks and Recreation. I write to-do lists that I don’t actually do, pointlessly challenging myself to Become More Cultured, Watch 100 Movies, Write, Create, Eat SPAM.

I was relying on the start of university to return me to the status of normal, functional human being. But I know myself too well, and a new academic calendar never changes my habits long-term; instead, the only thing that has the power to change my ways is a hairdresser’s appointment, according to the revolutionary idea seen each month in Cosmo: New Look, New You.

So I dyed my hair and started uni. Since then I’ve made a YouTube video, finished a history book and blogged thrice. It could be uni, it could be the hair. My money’s on the hair, but it doesn’t really matter, because for right now, everything’s coming up milhouse.

“Life is grand.” – Milhouse, paraphrased

why i love vaginas, and why you should love them too

just me chillin in my fave shirt. note the ‘we can do it’ sign in the background.

First up, let’s get things straight (lol). I’m not a lesbian, and I’m about 85% sure I’m not bi sexual. I just have this thing about vaginas. I love them. Well, “love” them – it’s really all a joke because I’m a feminist and people’s reactions to statements like “I love vaginas” and paraphernalia such as vag badges and pussy power shirts (two of my most prized possessions) are absolutely priceless. The thing is, my joke has evolved into a semi-legit thing, as in my defensiveness to ignorant questions such as ‘um wtf why?’ I’ve developed several ACTUAL REASONS to love front-bums. There is some serious, meaningful shit behind the words.

(To clarify, I also think that trouser snakes are fab, but I kinda feel like they get enough love already. Our world is filled with phallic imagery, as my former English teachers have all too enthusiastically pointed out to me. As a beaver-bearer myself, I feel a little left out. Where is my architectural display of grandeur!? Never mind that prick-like pillars and poles are fundamental to the structural foundations of most buildings! I want more symbolic muffs, goddamit!)

A lot of the males in my life think I’m REALLY WEIRD for my self-professed love for punanis. Whatever. They don’t understand. You probably don’t either. But I’m here to explain.

LABIA-NASTY

Let’s start with the facts. Genital surgery for females is on the steady increase. Covered by Medicare, in 2010-2011 1565 claims were processed (100% more than a decade ago), with the actual number of procedures thought to be much higher. Girls as young as 14 have had the operation performed. Usually undertaken for cosmetic reasons, with labiaplasty being the most popular, the pursuit of the designer vagina is steeped in culturally-learnt shame.

The focus of much of this shame is on the appearance of the vulva, specifically the labia, though colour can also be a concern. Half of all women have protruding labia minora, yet mainstream pornography predominantly features women with ‘tidy’-looking genitals, many of whom have been surgically reconstructed, contributing to unrealistic ideas and ideals. Further, the Australian Classification Board actually censors protruding vulva as it is seen as ‘too explicit’, leaving nowhere on the female body free from the Photoshop touch  in most media publications. Even anatomical pictures portray the female genitals as small and pink and uniform. Crude nicknames such as beef curtains and philly steak, while creative, don’t improve matters.

Genital anxiety inevitably negatively affects the sexual functioning of women. Feelings of embarrassment and shame can enter the bedroom and hamper sexual performance and activity, but the implications are also physiological. The labia minora is a highly sensitive sexual organ, dense with nerve endings and sensory receptors, the removal of which can hinder the ability to orgasm. Essentially, labiaplasty unnecessarily destroys an erogenous zone because of warped perceptions on what constitutes normal and attractive.

As a society we need to understand that vaginas and vulvas and labia aren’t disgusting; these statistics are disgusting. A change is needed. We need to love vaginas.

These lovely embroidered vulvas are available for purchase on Etsy.

THE SEX-POSITIVE MOVEMENT

Now, let’s lighten the mood. There is a solution to the depressing phenomenon described above, and an array of other issues surrounding gender and sexuality: Sex-positivity. Sex positivity isn’t simply about loving sex – it’s the attitude towards human sexuality that all consensual sexual activities are healthy and pleasurable. With an emphasis on sex-ed, support for people of all genders, sexualities and orientations, healthy body image and general love and acceptance of all, sex positivity is about Being You, Being Proud and saying a huge FUCK YOU to shame. Doesn’t it sound wonderful?

Me professing my love for fannies is me practicing sex positivity. I am pro-puntang, pro-body confidence, pro-self love and support! I am pro-sex, and there ain’t nothing harmful about it.

PUSSY PRIDE

Implicit in the statement “I love vaginas” is a love for my own peach pie, but a few years back I would NEVER have said anything of the sorts, not least because I actually cared what people thought of me; back then, I didn’t like my what-I-now-recognise-as-lovely honey pot. Mine seemed different, unattractive. I was self-conscious and ashamed, and dreaded the thought of baring it to others.

Knowing that thinking this way SUCKS and was going to prevent me from some first-class pleasure down the track, I decided to do something about it. I looked at pictures online that were outside the manufactured mainstream. I looked at myself, getting used to the idea that I am normal, simply because there is no normal. I practiced the idea that I am beautiful until I believed it.

Obviously my positive body image is not infallible, but I’ve learnt to take pride in my baben baby maker, a great and empowering feeling that I want to spread. Be proud!

SUPPORTING MY SISTAZ

I’m big into girl power. I feel proud whenever I hear of some successful woman doing some amazing thing. My favourite three-word sentence is YOU GO GIRL. Thus, it makes me very sad to think that so many females are concerned about how they look in the downstairs department.

You don’t have to poke your fingers too far into the internet or your friendship circles to find many a sorry victim of vulva anxiety. My poor fellow warriors!!! Hearing some troubled soul confess her feelings of worry and shame just makes me want to run over and comfort them and bake them a cake even though I have a neutral relationship towards baking and sweet goods so maybe I’d just order takeaway pizza and I’d envelope them in a big insecurity-killing bear hug and say HEY! YOU ARE NORMAL. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. LOVE YOURSELF. LOVE VAGINAS.

Me loving vaginas is about me sending out the signal to my gal-pals –I’m here for ya. Bby I accept you. Love your lady bits!

 FOR REAL THOUGH, VAGINAS ARE ACTUALLY AWESOME

Give me one reason why I shouldn’t love vaginas. Oh yeah well whatever you just came up with is completely inconsequential because VAGINAS GIVE LIFE which is way more important than any supposed drawback immature boys conjure up because they’re scared of the unknown. If you weren’t already aware of this, our velvet undergrounds are literally fundamental to the continuation of the human race.

Evolutionary importance aside, a vag is just fab to have. She’s like your best friend, only minus everything annoying. You can’t live without her and you LOVE spending time with her. She is your hot water bottle on a cold winter’s night. She knows your likes and dislikes better than you do. She is always there to excuse your behaviour or get you out of things, at any time of the month.

Vaginas are awesome.

AND BASICALLY I’M JUST MAKING A HUGE FEMINIST STATEMENT

“I love vaginas” is a joke, but it is a joke that when probed, I will stand proudly behind: as elucidated above, vagina love is important. PUSSY POWER!!!

Note:  Not all people who own vaginas are female. I apologise to those who may read this and take offense to the language used  which implies all owners of a vagina identify as female. 

Header Image by Mooncup

Can I get a refund? (Life don’t exchange)

Just over a month ago I celebrated my 18^th birthday. I went jet-skiing in Vanuatu and it was amazing, thanks for asking. Since becoming an Official Grown Up, I have done many Grown Up things. Some examples which spring to mind include getting grinded on, renting pornography and buying $18 cocktails with my parent’s credit card. Finally, after nine years of childish bliss and nine years of awkward puberty, I am a fully developed, highly mature adult.

You know how in popular culture, high school is portrayed as this torturous hell-hole through which a cute and relatable protagonist endures bitchy Queen Bees, love and accidental heart break and more love, stifling status quos, bullying jocks, and general classroom monotony, emerging somehow better on the other side, having learnt some really important life lesson or twenty? Yeah? WELL BOY do I feel short-changed, because NONE of that stuff happened to me. My high school life was brilliant. In fact, most all my life lessons have been learnt second-hand, living through these characters. Fun.

Mean Girls taught me to hate pretty people.

Sometimes at work the older, wiser customers will share their life stories with me. Of wild nights and stupid decisions, all relayed with a nostalgic smile. They say: “You’re not like that, are you?” I shake my head. They pat me on the shoulder. “Good girl. Sensible.” And to them I say FUCK YOU sensible is an insult. Sensible is boring. You don’t know me! I’m exciting! I’m irresponsible! I wake up at noon!

I’ve been aware of my embarrassing naivety for a while, but it’s only really JUST hit me, days before uni and five minutes after my parents harassed me about why I haven’t yet found a job (I’m saving myself for The One, gahd): I am an Actual Adult, yet I feel like I’ve missed out on the appropriate life experiences to get me here. As if I’ve been cheated of something important.

I never skipped school or got in trouble. I never partied or drank at a young age, snuck out late, ran away, lied to my parents about my whereabouts or goings-on. I’ve never been properly grounded. I’ve never fallen in love or broken my heart or had a successful serious relationship.* I’ve never had sex. I’ve never been in any kind of fight. I’ve never been bullied. I’ve never failed.

Maybe you read the above and think, wtf is she complaining about!? So you’ve had a largely uneventful adolescence. Big deal, African children are starving, shut your insolent angsty pie-hole. Some of my similarly inexperienced friends will read this and think, you silly bitch, except without the bitch because they don’t swear. Why lie, why break the rules? That’s just immature. You can have fun without alcohol! Ew, boy germs.

And I’m hearing you. But my point is: I’ve never learned. I haven’t had the chance to experience and learn things myself. I’ve never been challenged, I’ve never grown stronger from some trying time. I have no idea what kind of person I am in the face of adversity.  I’ve been so sheltered that now, when I finally get to spread my wings as a legal adult, a lot of people my age have already been there, done that. And I’m only just getting started.

But I’ve come to realise something.

It’s really easy to think like that. To compare: what if, if only. But self-pity and negativity are like a McDonalds meal – fun in the moment, but ultimately unhealthy. I may feel like a half-formed adult, but it does no good to maintain a “grass is greener” attitude. Dwelling on the things I haven’t done is pointless. Why live and regret the past, when you can be grateful and live in the present? My adolescence may have been less exciting than the books and films promised, but I had fun. I’ve got time. My experiences may be different from other 18 year olds, but that’s okay: those experiences make up me, and I am frikkin awesome.

I guess I have learned something after all.

*I don’t count the time I dated my best friend for two months. I learnt more about fish than I did about relationships or penises.