Kelley Hungerford

Many things exist in this world that are radically overpriced: tea, medicine, college tuition, the Observatory’s wares.
But there is a particular product line that makes me extremely bitter.
Men, stop reading.
Feminine products: tampons, pads and panty liners. Don’t you wish you’d stopped reading, Mr. Man?
Disclaimer: I will not be vague or censored in this opinion. It’s pretty raunchy; enjoy the flow.
I think I am usually a pretty agreeable person, but, like every woman, I have “that time of the month where I’m not at my best because my vagina is bleeding,” to quote The Onion.
The only thing that annoys me more than taking Carrie to the prom is how much it costs to keep the bitch at bay.
According to what is probably not a reliable Web site’s spending calculator, I will spend about $7,000 on tampons and pads in my lifetime. I’m spending half a semester of tuition on products to stop me from menstruating all over my jeans. Great.
I did some research: At Walgreens, most pads cost $5-$8 for a 24-pack, and tampons cost $3-$6 for a box of 20.
And those are just your basic applicator tampons. These are not as absorbent as, say, o.b. tampons, which don’t have an applicator. I buy o.b.s, and they cost $8-$12 for a box of 25-40.
I refuse to buy the cheaper tampons, though, because they are, again, less absorbent, the applicator is uncomfortable aganist my vaginal wall and cardboard applicators are wasteful.
Many women tell me they don’t use the more expensive, better-quality o.b.s because they don’t want to touch themselves when they insert a tampon. To those women: Does that mean you also don’t clean your baby cave when you shower? Because last time I checked, you have to touch yourself to do that.
Honestly, I’m not sure why women have to pay for feminine products. I think the Student Health Center should give out free tampons like they do free condoms, but no flavored ones, please.
Maybe there could be tampon and pad stamps; they could be called “food stamps for your kitty.”
Anyway, I started to wonder if there was a realistic, less expensive way to keep Mother Nature at bay without sacrificing quality and comfort.
An answer fell into my lap.
I was interviewing some women for the Review this week and got onto the topic of this opinion article. They told me that I could still feel like a diva without spending like the government during a bailout. Note: That sentence was highly paraphrased; that is, I made it up.
They told me about something called The DivaCup. I did more research.
“The DivaCup is a non-absorbant menstrual cup that collects menstrual flow,” according to divacup.com.
Like a tampon, it is worn internally but can’t be felt and can be used even if you have an active lifestyle.
The cup is made from gum rubber, which is natural latex rubber. So, if you’re allergic to latex, you can still use it.
To me, it kind of resembles a NuvaRing with a condom attached to it. But if you’re allergic to latex and want to use condoms and your mind made the connection, I should provide this caution about The DivaCup:
Warning: Not to be used as a prophylactic. Will cause cock blockage.
That is, you can’t have sex while The DivaCup is in your vagina, although I should think that sex on your period would be quite like slicing into a rather bloody steak. That is, period sex is messy and no use of parentheses will prevent the mess. Any questions?
This product sounds great. There’s no odor, no leakage, no mess, no discomfort.
But here’s the part that I was, at first, skeptical about: It’s reusable.
According to the Web site, The DivaCup can be worn up to 12 hours, which means you don’t have to carry around extra tampons or pads, and you can wear it overnight without worrying about the dreaded Toxic Shock Syndrome.
You empty the cup’s contents and wash it at least every 12 hours with warm water and soap (or DivaWash, the company’s version of the latter).
It sounds gross, but if you wash it thoroughly, there’s no reason for it to be unsanitary.
Menstrual cups have been around since the ’30s, and in 2003, a mother/daughter team innovated the traditional design. Hence, The DivaCup.
It costs a little more than $30 for a cup, which may seem like a lot, but consider the alternative: According to the Web site, women spend $200 a year on disposable tampons and pads; that could buy shoes, the Business Law textbook or, like, six DivaCups to share with your friends.
Now, I’m not a hippie, but I am cheap. Still, there is another reason I’m interested in this product:
Tampons and pads are not biodegradable, and so they sit in landfills. The DivaCup is both cost-effective and environmentally friendly.
Even if you don’t care about going “green,” think of it this way: This product is made from a natural material, so your body won’t absorb harmful chemicals from the cup like it can from tampons.
I haven’t bought one yet, but I think I’m going to. I’m tired of throwing my money away on products to halt the crimson tide. I’m tired of awkwardly taking my purse to the bathroom with me when it’s arts and craft week at panty camp. I hate the sinking feeling I get when I realize I have no tampons to give Aunt Flo when she comes to visit.
The DivaCup could change that for me, and I want to try it.
Ladies, we’re all divas; now our vaginas can be divas, too.