internal affairs

When I was growing up, my dad couldn't bear to watch tampon commercials. He's not one of those habitual channel flippers, but as soon as a feminine hygiene spiel appeared, click! I don't really understand why. But Daddy, if you happen to be reading my blog, you better skip this one.

Last year, I blogged a lot about the Vagina Monologues. The felicitous combination of being involved with the production here at PTS while being pregnant caused quite a revolution in the way I experienced my body--it was sort of like a wildly positive mind/body feedback loop of feminist consciousness of self. During that time I learned about the Diva Cup from one of the other cast members. She raved about it. The rest of us were astonished that there was even a tertium quid in existence in the unsatisfactory binary world of pads v. tampons. I resolved to try it...that far distant day in the future when I would once again require such things.

Well, so I finally have. And although there's kind of a learning curve involved in using it, it's not that hard. While it does require a familiarity with one's own anatomy that pads certainly don't, at this point I consider that a plus. It's comfortable, better than tampons in that respect; it works; best of all, it is reusable: no more flushing tons of tampons into the sewage system or tossing pads in the garbage. It's simple.

The testimonials on the site are overwhelming in their gushiness. But now I get why. It really is a sort of small revolution in how we experience this natural rhythm of bodily life.