;)
Monday
Mar082010
We're Short A Girl, But We Have The Cup
Monday, March 8, 2010 at 11:36AM
Dear Choch,
I'm just not that into you.
We've been together for these 34 years, 11 months, 2 weeks and 12 days, even though I didn't know about you for the first 15 years. I thought you had something to do with the little hole just north of you until one day when I was trying to convince my mother to let me use this AMAZING BRAND NEW INVENTION called a tampon, and I pitched it to her as, "If you can get a baby out of that tiny little opening, I'd think getting a little tube of cotton up there would be a no brainer."
Her falling over and dying of laughter-induced asphyxiation was my first clue that I was missing something key. And yes, I went through two whole menstrual years before I knew you existed. Cult. Schizophrenic. You try to fair better in life.
Anyway, I figured out what the hell you were four years later soon enough, and sure, you've done great things for me. You allowed me to wring out three humans so they could breath well enough to eat all my good cookies someday, and you've single-handedly kept this guy around for the better part of 14 years. It's not like he's still here because of my mad housekeeping skillz or anything.
All I'm saying is that I get it. You're important. So is astro-physics but you don't see me sticking my hands in that gooepy hot mess, either, do you? I'm happy letting you be you, and letting me be me, and calling it a day. You're a glorified tube sock, a protein depository, and to be perfectly honest...you kind of wigg me the fuck out.
I have never been the 'I have vagina; hear me roar!' kind of women. I never felt the need to sit on a mirror to explore the source of my power and femininity. I made my father videotape the births of my children from the neighboring hospital. I got pregnant with my first kid because I couldn't find my diaphragm and figured I was digesting it. I don't care how you work...I just care that you do. The source of MY power and femininity? DSW. It's not oozey. I don't have to wax it. The worst thing anyone leaves behind in DSW is congealing white chocolate mochas. Which are still pretty fucking delicious.
But still, I decided to let you try one of those Diva Cup things. Because I am an idiot.
Our midwife had warned us that things like this would be a problem when she tried to reach my cervix and realized that holy shit you're long and had to take a running start to get her fingers all the way to the top of you. Good times, good times. I don't have the luxury of taking running starts to get weapons of mass absorption in their proper place. All I have are 10 stubby fingers that would rather dig around the insides of a rotting wildebeest carcass than try to get a plastic Barbie funnel in it's proper place. And yet, I tried. For you.
It's not degrading enough that I can put a 4.3 cm plastic shotglass in you and not feel it, oh no. You had to go and an attention whore about the whole thing. You had to keep pushing that thing back out. You had to shift it sideways. You had to make me spend every 47.28 minutes with my entire hand up in you (which seriously, I could have gone my whole life not knowing I can get a whole hand in you, thanks for that gem of an ego boost) adjusting and re-adjusting that thing while I was on vacation with my entire family AND 10 other bloggers. AT A WATERPARK. Are you trying to tell me something? Not getting enough attention? Take it up with your co-owner; that's in his job-description, not mine.
And don't for a second tell me I was doing it wrong. Want I should make a list of all the random crap I've had to stick in you over the past 22 years? I didn't think so. I'm the World's Leading Authority in the field of wedging plastic contraptions in you to keep stuff in, or out. And I'm done. I'm over you. I'm buying a Red Tent and we are spending 7-9 days of every month in it, end of story.
You have failed me for the last time.
Your Lovin',
Mr Lady
{Thanks to BlogHer for the cross-posting action}
I'm just not that into you.
We've been together for these 34 years, 11 months, 2 weeks and 12 days, even though I didn't know about you for the first 15 years. I thought you had something to do with the little hole just north of you until one day when I was trying to convince my mother to let me use this AMAZING BRAND NEW INVENTION called a tampon, and I pitched it to her as, "If you can get a baby out of that tiny little opening, I'd think getting a little tube of cotton up there would be a no brainer."
Her falling over and dying of laughter-induced asphyxiation was my first clue that I was missing something key. And yes, I went through two whole menstrual years before I knew you existed. Cult. Schizophrenic. You try to fair better in life.
Anyway, I figured out what the hell you were four years later soon enough, and sure, you've done great things for me. You allowed me to wring out three humans so they could breath well enough to eat all my good cookies someday, and you've single-handedly kept this guy around for the better part of 14 years. It's not like he's still here because of my mad housekeeping skillz or anything.
All I'm saying is that I get it. You're important. So is astro-physics but you don't see me sticking my hands in that gooepy hot mess, either, do you? I'm happy letting you be you, and letting me be me, and calling it a day. You're a glorified tube sock, a protein depository, and to be perfectly honest...you kind of wigg me the fuck out.
I have never been the 'I have vagina; hear me roar!' kind of women. I never felt the need to sit on a mirror to explore the source of my power and femininity. I made my father videotape the births of my children from the neighboring hospital. I got pregnant with my first kid because I couldn't find my diaphragm and figured I was digesting it. I don't care how you work...I just care that you do. The source of MY power and femininity? DSW. It's not oozey. I don't have to wax it. The worst thing anyone leaves behind in DSW is congealing white chocolate mochas. Which are still pretty fucking delicious.
But still, I decided to let you try one of those Diva Cup things. Because I am an idiot.
Our midwife had warned us that things like this would be a problem when she tried to reach my cervix and realized that holy shit you're long and had to take a running start to get her fingers all the way to the top of you. Good times, good times. I don't have the luxury of taking running starts to get weapons of mass absorption in their proper place. All I have are 10 stubby fingers that would rather dig around the insides of a rotting wildebeest carcass than try to get a plastic Barbie funnel in it's proper place. And yet, I tried. For you.
It's not degrading enough that I can put a 4.3 cm plastic shotglass in you and not feel it, oh no. You had to go and an attention whore about the whole thing. You had to keep pushing that thing back out. You had to shift it sideways. You had to make me spend every 47.28 minutes with my entire hand up in you (which seriously, I could have gone my whole life not knowing I can get a whole hand in you, thanks for that gem of an ego boost) adjusting and re-adjusting that thing while I was on vacation with my entire family AND 10 other bloggers. AT A WATERPARK. Are you trying to tell me something? Not getting enough attention? Take it up with your co-owner; that's in his job-description, not mine.
And don't for a second tell me I was doing it wrong. Want I should make a list of all the random crap I've had to stick in you over the past 22 years? I didn't think so. I'm the World's Leading Authority in the field of wedging plastic contraptions in you to keep stuff in, or out. And I'm done. I'm over you. I'm buying a Red Tent and we are spending 7-9 days of every month in it, end of story.
You have failed me for the last time.
Your Lovin',
Mr Lady
{Thanks to BlogHer for the cross-posting action}
Reader Comments (61)
You know, I tried that thing one more time. Just for Tanis. And it still did not work for me AT ALL. Complete mess.
Yup the boys are really gonna get the wrong idea this time. We certainly don't all have a one size fits all kind of plumbing that's for sure
Suddenly I love my Mirena-induced lack of periods.
DSW is the source of my power and femininity too, I just didn't have to stick my arm up my bajingo to figure it out. I call that a win.
I just have to say that of all the things I've put (or attempted to put) in my hoohaw, a shot glass has never ONCE occurred to me. @Katie, I will cry when my Mirena comes out in three months. It has been my dear friend for the last five years, not just because of the whole "not having anymore babies" part, but yes, the lack of periods - better than chocolate chip mint ice cream.
This is a generic comment. I have nothing to add to this conversation. I shall hit submit now. *run run run*
So glad that is something I don't have to deal with anymore.
And busydad? You might need to pick up the pace a lil' bit.
Dear GOD I love my Mirena. You mean I don't get to keep it forever??????
Hold on: 34 years, 2 weeks and 12 days?
Isn't it 34 years and 353 days?
And if I had a vagina, I'd totally use a silicon cup instead of a tampon. Or I'd have them scrape out my uterus and I'd make it into a necklace.
So what your saying is it was rather like throwing a wiener down a hallway?
Niiice.
Just don't say I've never given you anything. Diva cup aside, just think of the new found knowledge of your insides you know hold because of my thoughtful gift.
Snicker.
You know, I think there might be a whole documentary (I really mean porn) niche to do with this topic. It would be a coming-of-age film, in which the heroine discovers... various props to plunder herself with. Might be a good money maker. You've got three college educations to save for, right?
I've never tried one of those and you just confirmed for me why I'm sticking to tampons. That does NOT sound like a good time to me.
After Googling what in the world you were talking about: ew.
The first time I stumbled upon this at the Health Food store, I believe I yelled out "Gross! Are you serious?" If I remember correctly, the box advertised the glories of nature and saving nature by NOT using a ball of cotton on a string. I'm sorry but no. And since we're on the subject...
You dump out its contents, I assume, and then what? Do you sterilize the shot glass before it goes back in? I mean, who knows where your dirty fingers have been and all those germs could get you a nasty little infection. Whereas if you just stuck a wad of cotton on a string up there....
Man, I didn't expect that when I opened up your blog. Next you'll be talking about dental dams... and I will laugh.
I got to paragraph 6 before I figured out what a "Choch" is.
I now have images I can't get rid of. Thank you for that.
My dear girl,
I am in pain from laughing so hard. I don't believe I have ever witnessed someone calling out their cootch before and so for that reason alone this post is EPIC. For anyone who has the 'lady bleeding', this post is an instant classic! Now perhaps your naughty bits will appreciate you more-cheers to you!
Wow! A shot glass. I've been young and dumb with various vegetable life and beer bottles. But a shot glass?
Thanks for the insight!
i..i..just woke up from a nap and read this and i don't know or didn't know what i was reading and it's all foggy right now...but i think i'll recover.
Hoooookaaaaay. Never going to try whatever the hell that thing is you described. I don't even like tampons. A plastic shot glass is not enticing in the least. I had them cauterize the ol' fallopians when they delivered my son so I would not have to think about birth control ever again. I will go on until menopause takes over completely being ignorant of the Diva Cup.
The very furthest I will go is buying OB tampons; diva cup? Gag. Seriously. I don't care about the environment THAT fucking much. Sorry.
As an aside, that was an excellent book, was it not?
In my humble experience, it works better as a shot glass. Preferably before you do the insertion dance.
Oh, the things I've learned about you in just one post. LOL -- and for what it's worth, I missed all of the adjusting and whatnot this weekend. ;)
I'm fairly sure I'll be menopausal before I figure out this damn Diva Cup.
Oh. My. God.
Can't. Stop. Laughing.
Please. Send. Oxygen. Immediately.
As for me and mine, it's none to friendly with tampons, so I don't imagine a diva cup is something that would work out well. I'll go on being thankful for thin pads, thanks ;)
And right after I hit publish, I remembered that I have a mostly male audience. Whoops. http://tinyurl.com/sorrydudes
Funny post! Thanks for the laugh.
Maybe it's because I've never had kids, but I love my diva cup. The idea that I never have to buy another piece of cotton or disposable pads is happy 4 my wallet and enviro-free. Yes, for whoever asked, there's a sanitizer you can buy.
Clearly this doesn't work for everyone tho :)
I am laughing to snort stage. To be completely honest, I hate the thought you can shove something up you that you can't feel. Each to their own - but I've seen the assortment of what CecilyK can shove in her bra and I don't want to think about the kinds of things we could lose in our vaginas.
You know, I am the most hippy-dippy, eco-environmentalist there is. And I won't even buy a Diva Cup. Kudos on being brave so that I can continue to avoid it.
I plastic cup that hangs out in the HooHah, collecting your body's cyclical failure and it calls itself a DIVA CUP?!
That's just bold.
Bold.
{rolling}
I was just thinking today how much I hate my menstrual cycle. Though, I would never try one of those cup things, heck, I can't even fathom a diaphragm much less deal with the bloody mess. Some may become less grossed out by bodily functions the more kids they have - I've seen more than enough poop to last my life - but no, it makes each instance that much harder.
However, every time it shows up, I'm thankful to confirm I'm not adding to the brood.
I posted this shit TODAY, of all days, on International Women's Day. Oh irony, you are so delicious. http://tinyurl.com/sorrydudes
RT @mrlady: I posted this TODAY, of all days, on International Women's Day. Oh irony, you are so delicious. http://tinyurl.com/sorrydudes
RT @mrlady: I posted this TODAY, of all days, on International Women's Day. Oh irony, you are so delicious. http://tinyurl.com/sorrydudes
You said cooch.
And I think I love you.
At the waterpark. Snort.
RT @mrlady: I posted this shit TODAY, of all days, on International Women's Day. Oh irony, you are so delicious. http://tinyurl.com/sorrydudes
I think this is a first for me. I'm not sure I've read a post addressed to a vagina before. Awesome.
I tried the similar version you used to be able to just buy at the store and thought it was a messy yucky thing. That and lately I can't reach my cervix either. But being able to stick you hand up there? Wow.
As happy as I am with my Diva Cup, I feel that I should defend it here against these maladroit maligners. But really, I think I'll just keep my fingers clean and clear of this one. ;)
Us modern chicks are so missing the boat with this Red Tent idea. I loved that book and why not all go hang out together and escape for a week and cry and uh, clean each other's bloody piles of hay?
Sounds like a damn vacation to me.
And that Diva Cup? Hell the eff NO! And the fact that you tried that out at a waterpark makes you the bravest woman I know.
Only a letter to your vagina could bring me out of lurkdom to comment. I am SO glad you posted this, because it kind of wiggs me the fuck out, TOO! Mine, I mean. Not yours. I've not seen yours, or interacted with it in any way, but I'm sure it's lovely.
I have not tried the Diva Cup because I was worried about all the things you've addressed in the letter. And now, I know that I will NEVER try it. I will just keep on doin' my Seasonale, which at least means my 7-9 days only visit every *three* months, and go spelunking with my good friend Playtex.
P.S. My cootch said to tell your cootch 'hi.'
Ok. I was leary about trying it to begin with. Totally NOT going to now. Funny post!
1. Love the book The Red Tent.
2. Periods sucks.
3. The Diva Cup is on my top 10 list of things to never insert in my Vag. Thanks!
Excellent post, I never could get why the Cup was such a hot idea. The book was a wonderful read.
Having fled through my middle years into my blissful old age, I am just about done worrying about a visitor, except that 1 or 2 times a year it just shows up at random. I really hope eventually I can be done sometime.
Thanks for the laugh--I've totally had days like that with my Diva Cup. Where I would have thrown it across the room, screaming and sobbing, if I hadn't needed it so badly and also not wanted to clean up blood spatter. But I have to say that for the most part I'm (finally) really happy with it. When it wasn't working, though, I bravely wrote to their customer service people. They suggested I call and talk to them about my problem in person. Um. No. Thank. You.
I have actually now gone FIVE months without a period. Until Thursday, that is. Because I had a trip planned and, you know, I always get my period during a vacation. Once I got it twice during a two-week vacation (had it when we arrived and got it again before we left).
Because I live in the world of applicator-free tampons. I have to hoard. I'm not uncomfortable with my body. I like sex and all. But I don't feel like spelunking down there when it's Lunar Madness IF you know what I mean.
Honey, get yourself an IUD and just have one period a year. I'll never go back, never. And I may never get over this post.
I think we should all institute red tents as policy, though. I'd like to to leave my family behind once a month because I am unclean. Sounds just fine by me.
This left me doing a lot of guessing, but given the size of my big brain, I think I finally figured it all out. And I'm with you, I'm over my vag too, it keeps disgracing itself every time I go near a trampoline...
This love letter from @mrlady to her girly bits is one of the funniest things I've read in quite a while: http://bit.ly/cphHhW
I'm laughing so hard I can't get enough oxygen to my brain to leave a comment. Or maybe my brain is always a bit short on oxygen. Ew. I'm a tampon girl myself.