The Mooncup

 

Let’s go back a few years.

It was about 2014 when I bought a menstrual cup. I probably entered the pharmacy with a flaring face, lit by a thousand fires of self-doubt and shame (what? I menstruate? no way). I had done a reconnaissance a few days beforehand, locating the Mooncup amongst the fluo packaging of tampons and pads. I feigned nonchalance, and tried reading the sales advisor’s face and body language, feeling her (probably inexistant) judgement.

I won’t contextualise and write what a menstrual cup is: you can find loads of resources online (here, here, for example).

I went home and tried it. I was imagining this tower block sized thing trying to gain unwanted access, and on its way out, I was scared I would need stitches. Basically, it felt like I was trying to ram something wrong into me.

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I put the Mooncup back into its deceptively innocent little pouch, and didn’t touch it for another two years.

Last month, I tried again. Last time, I didn’t have a purpose: yes, I wanted to produce less trash and save money, but this time I was GOING©  ZERO® WASTE™. I had a mission.

The first few days I used it, I thought to myself “IS THIS WHAT GIVING BIRTH FEELS LIKE” but then, once I folded it differently, learnt to be fiddly and basically deal with it, it went super smoothly.

I have been convinced.

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