My Cup Runneth Over

It’s day 4896 of my period. I am uncomfortable as hell, and I really don’t want to be using pads at the moment, partly because I have acne between my butt cheeks (delightful) and am feeling rather how I imagine how babies feel when they get nappy rash.

In other words, it’s not good, my friends.

I am also particularly unimpressed that the emergency Aldi pads I picked up (because there was apparently a national shortage of Always ultra long that week) are in fact… SCENTED.

Why? For the love of vaginas everywhere, why are these pads scented?! Now every time I take my knickers down, my olfactory senses are assaulted with a waft of pot pourri-esque aroma.

I mean, seriously? I don’t like pot pourri when it’s in a bowl on a counter, why would I want it IN MY PANTS?

Add to all of the above my existential guilt over the amount of plastic contained in disposable menstrual pads, and no, Always – I am not having a happy period.

At some point, I really do need to invest in some period pants.

I hear great things about them, and Instagram won’t stop throwing period pants ads at me. I feel like a Tom Jones concert stage in the 1960s: knickers, knickers everywhere…

In the meantime, I have invested in a new menstrual cup. I actually parted with some of my hard earned cash to buy a decent cup. Last time I bought one, I went for a cheapie; as I recall, I spent £7, plus postage.

My old cup isn’t bad, but it’s certainly very solid and I am definitely aware of its presence when I use it. I had to trim down its stem quite significantly too, otherwise I kept ending up feeling very sore from where it had rubbed against me (not to be recommended at all).

Eventually, I just decided that it was too uncomfortable to keep using. It was great for heavy days, but painful to use when I was getting towards the end of my period and had less natural lubrication. And I’d never worn it without a pad, just in case of overflow.

Enter (sorry) the Lily Cup:

The new cup that I ordered is an Intimina Lily Cup.

I went for size A, as recommended for women who haven’t given birth. The cup cost me £24. It was just over three times the cost of my first cup, so my expectations were *high*.

First up, I really like the very smooth silicone this cup is made of. One of the big pluses that convinced me to spring for this cup is the claim that it doesn’t absorb any vaginal fluid, only collects it. So I shouldn’t end up feeling like I’ve dragged my vag through a desert by the end of the day. Good start.

The Lily cup is also a lot more flexible than my previous cup, which is proving to be both a blessing and a curse.

Blessing: I don’t feel like I have literally shoved a solid plastic recepticle where one really doesn’t want a solid plastic recepticle to be. Because the Lily cup is so flexible, I’ve not (so far) had any moments where I’ve had to wriggle around so I can sit comfortably without feeling like my vaginal canal is about to rupture.

Curse: the flexibilty does make insertion a bit trickier. It can be difficult to get a decent purchase on the cup when you’re trying to insert it. I’m practically contorting myself to get it up there. I may actually have to take up yoga, just so I’m flexible enough to insert the damn cup. I don’t think there’s any dignified way to do this. I recommend a balance bar (or a sturdy towel rail) and plenty of water-based lube.

But generally, I give the Lily Cup a big thumbs up. I’m not cramping around it, and I can’t feel it every time I move. I’m also using it without a “safety pad” and I haven’t experienced any spillage. Woohoo!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to eat some chocolate. Because NEVER ENDING PERIOD.


*This is a genuine and unsponsored review!