Moon-strual Cup, anyone?


I don’t know how to put this lightly, but manufacturers want you (yes, you ladies) to put something new all up in there:


My first reaction to seeing this a while ago was that it was probably a gag, perhaps. I dismissed it until I saw an ad for it. When I realized it wasn’t, I was the one gagging after a brief minor Brad Pitt style freakout, crying: “What’s in the box?! What’s in the Baaaaaax?!!”

Then I learned.

I’m not sure what’s more disturbing: How she describes caring for it and “getting rid” of the waste, or how all the viewers’ comments seemingly display a lack of being as terrified as I was by the idea of playing “bury the beer bong” each month, only to have to go in like a Navy Seal and extract it soon after.

Call me crazy, but I don’t want something that resembles Chip from Beauty and the Beast forming a long term relationship with my womb, characterized by intermittent trips to it every few weeks like it’s some kind of country hideaway, after which I have to carry out its cleaning or storage process. Anything that was once in my body and suddenly is not – I do not care to handle. I’ll recycle anything else if you demand it, but this?

Put what, where?!

Do what? With WHAT?!

Also, is that lube I see in the picture up top?! Seriously? Do I look like Dexter Morgan? Talk about a literal blood slide. Thanks, but I prefer to forget the whole thing happened after it’s ended; I’ll pass on keeping this thing around like the trophy it so closely resembles.


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