Pretend You're Good at Menstrual Cups

throw your leg in the air like you just don't care

Hi, it’s me. Can I confess that I check the home page of my newsletter multiple times a day because I love the new name so much that I want to stare at it? Thank you for being here and for your fun comments last week on my newsletter relaunch. I’m feeling my Big Feelings.

Have you checked out my revamped About page yet? Many thanks to

Writers at Work with Sarah Fay

for her great suggestions in setting that up.

As I get ready to share some fun stories with you over the next few weeks, I’d love to get your help in spreading the word about Pretend You’re Good At It. Here’s what you can do:

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Until next time,

Jen

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Pretend You're Good at Menstrual Cups

I’m going to jump right into the awkwardness: {whispers} I don’t understand menstrual cups.

Fundamentally I get that they’re convenient, affordable, and better for the environment:

• A menstrual cup can be worn for up to twelve hours, which includes a full work day.

• It’s multi use over many years, which keeps pads and tampons out of the landfill.

• The cost is $20 - $40 for a cup that lasts several years, versus $100 or more per year for tampons, making it a more affordable option for broke college students and families living in poverty.

What I can’t wrap my head around is the logistics of removing, emptying, and cleaning a full cup should it need to happen in a public restroom or in a bathroom at work. Or in a port-a-potty while camping. Or while re-establishing a small community following a zombie attack.

(Why do dystopian shows like The Walking Dead never address women having their periods, or someone who loses a contact lens, or the fact that your teeth start to feel like they’re wearing tiny sweaters when you don’t brush them for a while.)

I’ve mentioned before that I’m in perimenopause and that my previously-regular cycles have become more of a surprise volcanic eruption. This, combined with pushing two human heads through my vagina has created an environment that is hostile toward reliable tampon use. 

Recently, Bryan and I had plans to go paddle boarding with a friend. I used to be able to plan things around my period, so when it randomly started the day before we were supposed to go – I panicked. Obviously I can’t wear a pad while swimming, and I didn’t want to cancel.

It was time to finally try a menstrual cup. 

An AI generated portrait of me mentally preparing to insert a menstrual cup.

I won’t subject you to a detailed explanation of my first menstrual cup experience because that would be vulgar (even for me). Instead, I will attempt to explain my experience through a metaphor: applying sunscreen.

In 2014 I accompanied Bryan on a work trip to Las Vegas. He was working for a remote-first company, and once a year the full team gathered in one location for a few days together. That year it was Vegas. The conference was Downtown (not the strip), near Fremont Street where there’s a zip line and digital sharks “swimming” above your head. 

Side note: The Weekday Vegas Pool Vibe is chill, while the Weekend Vegas Pool Vibe is BANANAS. On Wednesday and Thursday I was like, Vegas isn’t so bad. We should come here more often! This is chill! It’s so quiet! By Friday, the base was thumpin, the DJ was flappin his mouth, a statuesque woman was being spray painted red (why?!), and the pool was filled with a sea of… Vegas-y People. And yes, perhaps calling them Vegas-y people is slightly judgmental, but there was a man with a beer belly who had the words WHITE TRASH tattoo’d across his midsection, so I hope we can agree that judginess is a gray area in this circumstance.

I spent most of my time with a book by the hotel pool while Bryan did work stuff. On my first day, I brought sunscreen down to the pool and began rubbing it all over my legs, arms, and chest. I’m sure applying sunscreen is a sexy experience for some demographics, but those of us with a lot of surface area to cover and minor difficulty with flexibility, it is not.

A cat can apply sunscreen to the back of its thighs, but I, a human woman, do not look cute when doing this.

As I tried to get sunscreen all the way around to the back of my thighs, I sat on my lounge chair, threw my leg into the air, and rubbed myself in areas that aren’t normally rubbed while in public. 

A diver can apply sunscreen to the back of her thighs, but I, a human couch potato, do not look powerful and majestic doing this.

Of course all of this could have been avoided had I used spray-on sunscreen. Was this before spray sunscreen existed? More likely I was being frugal, because that shit is expensive.²

Needless to say, the next day I applied sunscreen before I left the hotel room, and after many attempts to secure a menstrual cup in its place, I gave up and tried tampons again. 

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Let’s Chat

• So, is it me or is it the cup?! Am I alone in the struggle? I mean, the experience started out funny, then I got mad, then I cried. I felt like an old lady. Is everyone else wearing these and I’m just not at all chill about it?! Should I try it again?!

• Have you been to Vegas? What was your experience like? Any crazy tattoo stories? Did you get married drunk by an Elvis impersonator? Is there a celebrity out there NOT doing a residency in Vegas?

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News + Notes 🌼

I posted a cancer update on Sunday. If you missed it, you can read it here:

Cancer Treatment Update #4 through 6

🌼 🌼 🌼

Related posts you may have missed:

Why Am I Still Getting My Period? (June 2023) - The first time I wrote about heading into menopause. The comments here are on fire! 🔥 We meet at the clock tower at 6:00!

🌼 🌼 🌼

The garden in August is lush. No ripe tomatoes yet, except a few Sungolds.

1. Shout-out to

Rocco Pendola

, whose recommendation has generated the most new subscribers for me. You should subscribe to his newsletter if you’re exploring a non-traditional retirement plan. His paid content is worth the money.

2. I was probably being cheap. I’m cheap about weird things.