encounters with a menstrual cup

the gorgeous cup

the first time i tried to put a menstrual cup in, i was treading unknown territory. i did not where i was headed, where it should go, how it should feel like. my god, was there even space for that thing to fit it? i held the cup in my hands, unsure if those 800 rupees were well spent or was it just an impulsive purchase that would go waste? i had to google how it would go in, and what my insides look like. 

the first day with a menstrual cup on, i forgot i was menstruating. there was no blood to be found anywhere. my panties were not uncomfortable, there was no blood in my pee, and i did not have to ask my friend to stare at my butt again and again to check for a stain. the day i wore a menstrual cup, i actually had to check if it was still there - could it disappear? 

the first time i tried to take the menstrual cup out, i was sure it was stuck. i had already imagined the humiliation i would have to go through in going to a hospital (or worse, asking a friend for help) in taking this strange thing out. sure, here was proof how 'feminism' was setting me on the wrong path. squatting on the floor, over the pot, any position in the world. google could tell me how to pull it out, i wished google could do it for me too. would i ever use this thing again?

the first time i saw my menstrual blood outside the canvas of a sanitary napkin, i stared at it in awe (and disgust). i saw it again with more awe (and disgust). i stared at it till the disgust was so disgusted, it walked away. 

the first time i touched my menstrual blood as i cleaned away the cup, i cringed and washed it quick. i sat wondering why i cringed. i started cleaning it slower.

the first time i told my friends about the menstrual cup, they told me how disgusting it would be to touch that blood. i have never felt so in sync with my body. they ask me how something this big fits in- my vagina is fucking beautiful and big. just like my (metaphorical) heart.