Monday, July 19, 2010

So several people recommended to me that instead of freakin’ out about a tampon sale at Walmart, I should just go and get myself a Diva Cup.
Here’s the thing: NO.
No. No. No. No. No. I am not graceful enough to operate this device and I’ll tell ya: the thought of walking around with a cup lodged inside of me is totally unsettling, let alone the fact that I am supposed to first get this INSIDE OF ME… FACE UP… and later retrieve this cup and (BUUUUHHHLEEEEH) “empty” it. Do you know what I’d be emptying out of that cup? Do you know what periods are made out of? They’re made out of your insides.
I am not trying to be insensitive to users/defenders of the Diva Cup. I’m really not. I respect doing whatever you have to do to keep your pants clean and your ‘tude in check, but I feel like I have to speak for people like me when I say the only diva I want anywhere near my insides is Beyonce, and by “anywhere near my insides” I mean “deep inside my soul always and forever.”
Also, “Diva Cup” is a really patronizing name. It makes me think of Celine Dion getting a trophy.