Jen Vaughn, powerhouse cartoonist and staff librarian here at the Schulz Library, has just made the prestigious “Bitch List”.  That is, she came in at number 11 in Bitch issue 45.

Bitch (The Feminist Response to Pop Culture) regularly publishes a list of all things bitchin’, and Jen’s menstruation-themed comics (Menstruation Station and Don’t Hate, Menstruate!) caught their eye.

You can read Jen’s comics at the Schulz Library, or buy copies here.

Congrats, Jen!

- Robyn Chapman

it has come to my attention that women have to go through so much because of menstruation. what what? can i get a hallelujah from my girls out there?

alright. check it:

we of the female kind go through this monthly process of ovulating for that ONE guy for whom we’re supposed to bear children–that ONE guy most of us don’t meet until like more than a decade after puberty. is that ONE guy worth the lifetime of cramps and emotional roller coasters? and what if you’re doomed to a life of spinsterhood? i mean, is there even still a point to ovulating then? wouldn’t the world just be a happier place if women got to choose when to ovulate or even just began menstruation at a later point in life? everyone in the world would be spared of years of our mood swings, we’d be spared of some years of physical pain, and we wouldnt have problems like teenage pregnancies anymore either.

i know, i know. you don’t have to tell me.
i’m a problem solver.
so… get to work you medical research people! you’ll be making the world a better place!

i’ll be cheering for you from the sidelines!

on another note, i cant stop listening to empire of the sun.

yeah these guys.

they look weird, but i really like their music. i enjoy walking to their songs a lot.

This is one of my least favorite poses for many reasons but mostly because I don’t like lying down by myself while I hear others doing their shoulderstands and headstands.   This is when I have to practice Ahimsa towards my body.  I urge all my students to listen to their body and be nice to it.  So what am I rambling about?

Viparita Karani Asana is the Legs up the wall pose.  It is considered a restorative pose and a good substitute to the shoulderstand.

A good description of this asana can be found through this article in Yoga Journal. (Note: their pose has a bolster/blanket underneath.)

Instruction on how to do this pose (no props.):

1. Sit on your mat right next to the wall. You may draw your knees towards your chest.
2. Slowly lift your legs up to the wall while you lower your back to your mat. Use your elbows to support your self down.
3. Put your hands away from your hips, palms facing up. (Stay in the pose)
4. To come out of the pose, Hug your knees then roll to your side.

There are variations to this restorative pose.

• Legs together straight up (what we usually do)
• Legs in a V formation.
• Legs in diamond shape (soles of the feet facing each other).
• you may also use props like folded blankets or a bolster underneath you.

Namaste.

- Karen

P.S. Pictures to follow.

I have always, to some extent, always felt I was born in the wrong body. Sure, some things about being female-embodied are fun. Breasts, for example. It’s definitely nice to have these things. Although there are definitely days I would be happy to do without them, and I have always wished mine were smaller (even when they were, pre-baby). I like having them, but sometimes I wish I could keep them as accessories instead of permanently attached body parts.

However, there is one thing that I don’t think I will ever, ever get used to or learn to like. BLEEDING.

I hate it!

I have a friend who refers affectionately to this time of month as her “Moon Time,” and celebrates it by pampering herself with special teas and playing hooky from work. I have another who practices bellydancing (she calls it “Goddess Dance”), and claims that it has helped her feel much more strong and empowered during this transformative time in her cycle. I even know a lesbian couple that finds menstrual blood a turn-on and includes it in their sex play (something I will never, no matter how much you pay me, will do).

But I don’t get any of this romanticism of what to me, essentially just boils down to a homely, convalescent burp in my natural rhythms. I don’t understand it. I don’t want a cycle. I hate cycles. I hate watching my body change and do strange things I have no control of. I hate feeling the tides of lymph swelling up my tissues until my eyes look hung over and my pants don’t button. I hate staying up at night feeling tortured by cramps, upset stomach and nausea. I hate the ebbs and flows of breast sensitivity and weight. I don’t really get mood swings, but I get headaches and pain. I hate pain. And I really, really hate blood. In any form.

While I believe in a higher power, I am mystified by the existence of blood periods. I mean, couldn’t we women have been designed a little better? Why do we have to bleed? It’s so humiliating and degrading, to me. It’s not just some mysteriously enticing body secretion, it’s BLOOD: a bad-smelling substance that reminds us of violence, wounds, war—coming out of our vaginas, a part of our bodies that’s supposed to represent beauty, sensitivity and regenerative power. How undignified! How evocative of all the abuse and enslavement we’ve suffered over the aeons! It almost feels like something a really cruel man would invent as our ultimate humiliation. I mean, how would men feel if their penises bled regularly, and it hurt and made them feel ill? Would that make them feel manly? Is this really some kind of curse that we accepted, and never quite figured out… and learned to develop all kinds of romantic New Agey rationalizations for?

I don’t know. There are times I think that we women have punished ourselves by learning to bleed. What if we could teach our wombs to just chill out and stop producing that damn endometrium unless we actually were trying to conceive a child? I mean, do we need to be baby-ready 24/7? Is being a woman all about childbearing, anyway? To me, it is not. It is about a lot of things, but I think the idea of a woman’s body being eternally receptive to sperm seems instinctively wrong… like maybe we haven’t mastered some secrets of feminine biological power. (I also think it is possible for women to control conception without pills and artificial devices, just through the mind—but that’s a topic for another day.)

I’ve tried to accept the concept of bleeding, but the more I try, the more I just rebel against it. I don’t like calling periods “moon time.” It feels too complacent to me, too politically correct. There is nothing lovely and romantic to me about this time. To me, it’s just a PERIOD… kind of like detention. It’s a week out of each month—one quarter of my entire life—where I feel fat and achy, weak, and dirty. And for all of the old-school feminists of the world who find that last adjective offensive… let’s call a spade a spade. There is NOTHING CLEAN about menstrual flow. It’s blood mixed with mucous and pieces of the inside of your uterus, for crying out loud. Blood is what comes out of a raw steak. Blood is what comes out of someone when you knife them. Blood is what mosquitoes suck from our flesh. For exactly one quarter of our lives as childbearing women, we (biological women at least) have to sit around figuring out ways to clean blood off ourselves, and to avoid showing it to the world. There is no one that can tell me this isn’t gross—and somehow, just really, really wrong.

If it weren’t for my fondness for breasts and my revulsion toward surgery, I might have gone FTM a long time ago. And when I get a chance to pick out my next body, next time around I’ll probably return to a male form. Being a woman is so confusing to me on so many levels. There are some things I like about it—like the ability to cry, love boys freely, wear flowered shirts and be sensitive without being called a faggot—but so many more things I can do without. And bleeding is one of the biggest.

In the end, I just feel confused by femininity. I honor it, I respect it, but I feel so often like I’ve wandered into it as a tourist, and found that I’ve gotten into something that’s way over my head. And occasionally, I want out. Sometimes it’s hard for me to sort out what is true femininity—which to me, is POWERFUL—and the disease, the “curse” of female disempowerment that on affects nearly all double X-ers to some extent. There are days I could completely imagine living without breasts. There are other days I marvel at the fact that I’ve managed to bear and nurse a child. It feels so odd to think about this. I don’t want to do it again—once was enough. Even if I actually wanted a second child, which I don’t, I can’t imagine going through childbirth again. If being a woman is like a daily dose of culture shock to my brain, labor to me felt like being initiated into a secret society where you have to learn to eat worms and get tattooed by herds of fire ants. All I kept thinking during that experience was, “WT…F!!!!” It was strange… to put it mildly.
I don’t know if things will change once I hit menopause—that alone has its share of strange symptoms I am sure I won’t be thrilled about. I feel like what I dislike most about being a woman, is feeling my body is a usable commodity with an expiration date. A man is always a man, he is always the same, he is always manly at any age. A man can even improve with age. He is not stalled or even stopped in his tracks by the humiliations of blood and pain. He is not slowed down and weakened by pregnancies, nursing, hormonal fluctuations. He doesn’t have to focus on such gruesomely elemental concerns all the time. He can have one foot in the ether and one foot on the earth. For a woman, it is very hard to get that second foot out of the earth. Even if she never is able to bear a child, her body always taunts her with the prospect. Even if she never wants a child, she has to put up with this monthly bleeding. And if she does have a child, she cannot be left alone. She is weak and needs help and support.

I know it’s really not the feminist thing to do, criticizing our most sacred bodily function. But when I think about it instinctively, I just still feel like it is wrong, strange. And even if this suspicion of biological foul play ousts me from the inner circle of estrogen-worshipping goddess warriors, I’m going to be honest about it. I hate to bleed. And I question why a God who can create the aurora borealis, puppies and macadamia nuts couldn’t have figured this one out a little better.

And in my most painful moments, I occasionally wonder whether this was actually Her intention at all.

© Sarah Noack 2007

I don’t like getting my period. Even on the cusp of puberty, I didn’t understand why the narrator in “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” longed so much to get her period. Wanting breasts, I understood, but menstruating seemed kind of disgusting and, to use a word I picked up as an undergraduate, abject. I got my period at twelve, and never really moved beyond that position. It’s messy, requires more forethought than I’m normally capable of, and is pretty much an all round nuisance. Plus, I get crippling cramps – when I was younger they were so bad I used to vomit, and although they’ve diminished a bit, they’re still highly unpleasant. Sometimes, when I’m clutching a hot water bottle because my insides feel like they’re being forced through a meat grinder, I curse being born female. At other times, however, I can see the funny side of all the bleeding and the pain, and I’m not adverse to chuckling at the fact that when I wake up on the first morning of my period, all the blood makes it look a bit like a very localized crime scene. In short, I view the arrival of my period as something to be tolerated. It starts, I feel shitty, I stuff wads of cotton in my vagina, I pop pills for the pain, I have to go to the bathroom every two hours, and I count down the days until I can be foot loose and fancy free again. I certainly don’t think of my period as part of an amazing cycle that also allows my body to produce life, I don’t marvel that I’m shedding excess uterine lining, and I’m certainly not someone who thanks the goddess or who celebrates some mystical connection to the moon.

Stress can disrupt this glorious monthly cycle, and since my time of heartache and sorrow began, my period has been a bit erratic.  Recently it got to the point where I was over the two month mark and still no ‘monthly friend.’ Now in and of itself, this might not have freaked me out so much (after all, I’ve been so stressed and tortured that I’m practically vibrating when I walk), but about five weeks ago I had a one-off sexual encounter with a guy. While I remember him putting a condom on, I was so unbelievably drunk that when I thought back, I could not be sure that the damn thing stayed on and didn’t break, and since he was still passed out/hungover asleep when I left we didn’t really engage in any kind of small talk (let alone the more clinical pleasantries that would have calmed my mind).

Initially, I was too busy thinking about work and life to notice ‘how long’ it had been since I bled from my vagina, but about two weeks ago I suddenly realized that it had gone from being, ‘gee, it’s been a while,’ to ‘gee, it’s LATE!’ And of course, once you have that thought, your mind relentlessly pursues it, hunting it into dark corners and chasing it round and round. And suddenly I remembered all that nausea and all that achiness and dizziness and I realized that maybe those weren’t just physical manifestations of my broken heart, that there might well be an underlying cause that connected everything and that was far more concrete than just ‘heartache.’ Since life has been kicking me over and over again, I have spent much of these two weeks terrified, absolutely stone cold terrified that I had managed to get pregnant from one disastrous fuck. Because really, that’s what this year needs – a secret abortion – a veritable cherry for the ice cream sundae of shit that has been my life over the last few months.

After a period of denial, then endless hopeful Google searches (‘late period NOT pregnant?’), and then more depressed searches working out where I could get an abortion if necessary (and what the trimester cut off point is), I finally went and bought a pregnancy test last Thursday. Boy was that fun (another day where I really felt like being female is the short straw). Now I’ve taken a few pregnancy tests over the years, and they have an almost Pavlovian effect, in that they scare the crap out of me (even just holding the box makes my heart race). During the actual moments after I’ve peed on the stick, I’m a sweaty palmed maniac, imagining multiple alternate versions of the future as each second drags. Kind of like this, but more menacing:

As an aside, it always does my head in that most people probably take these tests hoping for the little positive sign, because when I approach the stick it’s with my heart in my mouth hoping not to see what I view as the sign of doom and despair. Anyway, after two minutes of pacing about resolutely not disturbing my little peed on stick (because the instructions were quite stern on that point), I turned it over, and let out a mighty whoop, because, to quote the Magic 8 ball, signs pointed to no. Whatever else was wrong with me, I wasn’t pregnant, and that news was enough to actually make me rejoice and feel happy for a brief while (lowered expectations and all that jazz).

However, even with the reassurance gained by peeing on a stick, my mind was not completely at ease, and thus I think I can safely say I’ve never been happier to wake up to stabbing abdominal pain and blood stained underwear. This morning I found myself saying an internal word of welcome and thanks to my extremely tardy friend.

Lagunatic was reading a message board conversation about Mensa.  I knew I had to contribute as I have much to say on the matter:

I’m the antithesis of Mensa…I belong to a group called Menstrual. You have to be really cranky and saddled with a week long case of the stupids to join. We meet monthly. Period. Sometimes we check out each others’ pads.

(how much longer can I go with this do you think?)

You’re sorry you opened this aren’t you? Well get over it and pass me that fucking jar of Nutella! And a tissue – I seem to be crying for no apparent reason.

delta of the River Ganges

In Chinese medicine the menstrual cycle is viewed as a mirror of a woman’s health and regulating the cycle something of an art form.The heavenly waters or “Tian Gui” should come and go effortlessly and seamlessly the rising and falling of the tides. For many this is simply not so as about 42 millions American women suffer from PMS and painful periods.

Western medicine has one answer for delayed, painful, irregular, absent and heavy periods…over the counter birth control pills or OTCs. Don’t get me wrong, there is a time and place for “The Pill” but when one is attempting to regulate their cycle in order to get pregnant I just don’t get it?

Some background:
Lets take a look at the delicate interplay of hormones that constitute the female mentrual cycle. The first day of the cycle begins when the bleeding really starts. Spotting doesn’t count. Some texts state that the cycle begins the first morning you wake with a substantial bleed. This is Day 1. At this moment progesterone and estrogen are at their lowest levels. A “typical” period lasts approximately 5 days. The color should be bright red with no clots or pain.

BLOOD Stage:

Treatments are revolved around promoting a complete discharge of the Chong Mai ( a meridian called the Sea of Blood). This is a great time to use blood quickening herbs especially is someone is experiencing painful, clotty periods.

Follicular Phase: YIN

At about Day 7-Day12 this begins the follicular stage of the cycle.  At this point estrogen begins to rise and one follicle dominants. The uterine lining thickens and the glands of the cervix produce fertile mucus. In Traditional Chinese Medicine this is considered The YIN stage. We utilize blood and Yin tonics w/ small amounts of Qi moving herbs to encourage circulation. Yin tonics affect follicle.

Ovulation Day 12-14/Yin Turning to Yang

Follicle reaches optimal size (2cm across) and secretes high levels of Estrogen. Sometimes the follicle takes up to 5 days to mature. High levels of Estrogen act upon the pituitary and a LH surge occurs triggering OVULATION. During this time we use herbs and acupuncture to gently encourage the follicle to mature plus Qi quickening herbs and a few yang herbs to heat up the process.

Day 15-25-Luteal Phase-Yang Phase

During the second half of the cycle the corpus luteum produces progesterone and estrogen which stimulates the endometrium to secrete nutrients for the embryo. If an egg has been fertilized it is now traveling through the fallopian tube and will drop into the uterus about 6 days after ovulation. A rich, thick endometrail lining will create the perfect cushion for it to implant. This second half of the cycle is marked by a thermal shift of about a half of a degree to a full degree. Poor thermal shifts may indicate low progesterone levels. Cervical fluids will become drier.

If pregnancy is desired during the second half of the cycle YANG tonics are administered to help keep temperatures up. I usually recommend avoiding cold foods and drink and eating more soups and spicy foods.
12 days or more before the menstrual cycle are required for successful implantation to occur.

Some issues may be:

Low luteal phase: aging eggs may contribute to a poor corpus lutem. Progesterone support may be necessary.

Unstable Follicular Phase or delayed ovulation: Ovulation may be affected by stress. The Hypothanlamus is affected by emotions which may delay ovulation. The luteal phase is not affected by external factors.

Anovulation: some contributing factors may be PCOS, decreased body fat, stress.

Chinese medicine is a great way to regulate the cycle. Typically mentrual regulation takes about three months and includes acupuncture, herbs, dietary therapy and exercise.

Please visit www.ancientcurrent.com or e-mail Laurel@ancientcurrent.com for more information. I have offices in Ditmas Park and Park Slope, Brooklyn.

“Wenn Männer menstruieren würden, dann würden sie vermutlich eine Möglichkeit finden, um damit anzugeben”, schreibt der männliche Rezensent eines kürzlich erschienenen Buches über die Menstruation. “Wahrscheinlich würden sie es als spontane Ejakulation betrachten, als Exzeß ihrer Vitalität. Ihr Gefäß läuft über, ihre Sexualität gibt überschüssige Kraft ab. Sie würden sich als Spender von Blut verschwenderischem Übermaßes betrachten. Blut gilt schließlich allgemein als etwas Gutes. Blutriten waren früher eine Probe der Männlichkeit und beim erfolgreichen Abschluss der ersten Jagd eines Knaben, pflegtre man diesen bluten zu lassen. All das ist umgekehrt, wenn die Frau diejenige ist, die blutet. Bluten wird als Zeichen von Schwäche, Unterlegenheit, Unsauberkeit und Irrationalität gedeutet”

(Nancy Friday – My mother/My Self)

Panty shields up, Captain! We’re rebooting the Ovarian Operating System . . .

I know, the title of this blog alone makes you want to click fast and away. But I have to tell you a tale of consumer eco-angst removed from the simple and often expensive decision to buy local, organic products and food. But first, a little herstory . . .

There’s already been enough shame, secrecy, and taboo surrounding “that time of the month” and all the other fine euphemisms invented to be humourous or circumspect about the mystery of menstruation. There are countries where tampons weren’t and still aren’t sold because you’d have to “touch down there.” There are women who follow this practice willingly, even in forward thinking countries. They build huts and red tents and spas for this exact purpose. To wear pampers or to be pampered. Elsewhere.

But it’s moved beyond that to a place where we’re supposed to celebrate and “have a happy period,” a campaign from a company that stupidly chose their brand name to be “Always.” As in, “I’ll ALWAYS bleed, and I’ll ALWAYS wear these things.” At least Kotex, Tampex, and Playtex (all with –ex as a suffix to mean “out, from or away”) sound almost medical or medicinal. And it’s not ALL feminine hygiene, even wounded soldiers are prone to use a tampon (French for “plug” or “stopper”) to halt bullet wounds from weeping. “Always” doesn’t seem to imply medical or even chronic, instead, it implies a life sentence. Doesn’t your uterus protest? Well it should. War is hell and there’s a war in your drawers and the sick folks at Always were also responsible for aerodynamic pantyliners and pads. That’s right – they got your code red covered in homeland security and you can feel secure each month knowing there’s a little, white F-16 in your pants.

It’s not just a troubling war at home either . . . it’s covers many land masses and miles of ocean.

Spastic Plastic

Your average lady uses 16,800 tampons in her lifetime, that’s 250 to 300 pounds of tampons and applicators. Tag on a few thousand pads and panty liners, and your ecological footprint is looking more like Sasquatch. Of particular offense are the plastic applicators some tampons are encased in. They are casually tossed into wastebaskets where they later escape the curb trash or landfill, trotted off by animals, resurfacing in parking lots and playgrounds and a host of other locations you’d rather not see them appear.

They come back from the watery depths to haunt you, too.

Plastic tampon applicators from sewage outfalls are one of the most common forms of trash on beaches. Yeah, you thought food wrappers and glass bottles and needles were the only gross & hazardous materials washing out to sea and coming back in with the tides. You flush them and that’s just the beginning. For building owners, pads and tampons that are flushed down the toilet are the most common cause of plumbing problems. Further down the flow, they end up the sewage treatment plants and surf into a lake or onto a river, and on into the ocean where they pool with the rest of the plastic detritus at the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. There it all sits and breaks down into ever smaller particles until they are the size and color of plankton or worse, are pelletized high-density polyethylene (HDPE) white “nurdles” that resemble fish eggs or food to sea creatures. Then the birds and fish ingest these hormone disrupters and concentrated toxins like PCB and DDE and the circle of life gets a big kick in the nurdles.

But it’s not just the animals somewhat removed from you, you’re an animal too, and guess what it’s doing to you by directly inserting it? Your conventional feminine hygiene products contain a mixture of rayon and cotton. Rayon is in your blouses, dresses, lingerie, linings, scarves, suits, ties, hats, socks, the filling in Zippo lighters, blankets, window treatments, upholstery, tire cord, yarn and diapers. It’s highly absorbent but no good at retaining shape and as far as biodegradability goes, it’s a real loser. Most importantly, synthetic materials like the Rayon used in tampons show an increased risk of toxic shock syndrome (TSS), particularly for superabsorbent tampons. So if you’re a bleeder, you’re a feeder.

And sweet, white cotton isn’t much better up in there. Cotton is highly pesticide-intensive; 25% of pesticides used globally are devoted to growing cotton. To achieve that lily-white look, pads and tampons are bleached with chlorine, a process which creates dioxins, a known carcinogen and those bad boys shouldn’t be placed anywhere near your reproductive organs. And you swear you never smoked a cigar in your life. Especially in a donkey show.

Think Outside the (Tampon) Box

It’s getting easier to select tampons, pads, and panty liners made from organic, unbleached cotton which is cultivated without the use of pesticides, fungicides, herbicides, sewage sludge, irradiation, petrochemicals, or genetic engineering. All of which we now have think about when looking at the towering isle of soothing, pastel colors, reminding us that yes – we’ll be back out there swimming, riding ponies, surfing at the beach and smiling while playing miniature golf in NO time.

O.B. tampons: small box, no applicator. Compact, simple cellophane wrapper covering them, easy to use, and take up very little room in your purse. It is unfathomable, but some women simple aren’t down with getting that up close and personal with their own lady bits and maybe getting their finger a little spotty. Come on darlings – this is no time to be prim and squeamish. If you haven’t seen it in a mirror to understand how it goes together and pushed the buttons to see how it works, you don’t deserve to have sex and should just hang an “Out Of Order” sign over your girdle loop. Get over it. Get into it. It’s yours. Deal.

OG-style Tampax: wrapped in paper, cardboard applicator that breaks down relatively quickly if they happen to get loose in the environment. Preferable to the Pearl brand, which has an indestructible plastic applicator strong enough for shotgun shell casings and is then further wrapped in coated paper. Awesome. Go ahead. Try running them over with your car. You can’t destroy them. They’ll only get dirty . . . and more angry. That plastic rocket launcher is just one more wasteful obstacle between you and your nana. I don’t even want to go into the perfumed varieties. Now on top of your plastic fetish, you’re going to open a vapor-impermeable pouch and stick this vulcanized, alcohol soaked albino vampire into your hoo-ha where no one and nothing but your senseless cervix can smell it? Well it doesn’t work and now you smell of lightly talcumed meat. Fail. p.s. Talc is closely related to the potent carcinogen asbestos and talc particles have been shown to cause tumors in the ovaries and lungs of cancer victims. So hey – go easy on sprinkling the Johnson’s about your leaky basement. It’s a safety hazard. You’ll slip and fall. No need to announce “clean-up on aisle one.”

Natracare and Seventh Generation: chemical-free, non chlorine-bleached, simple packaging which means even less waste. Eco-conscious enough with all the key ingredient and disclaimers including no animal-testing and skin-tested only on fellow humans. You can sleep well in the knowledge that no bunnies had to hop about with a maxi pad strapped to their fluffy bums and instead, some nice lady in a lab got itchy a few times. This is still within the normal scope of your monthly cycle.

Jade and Pearl Sea Sponge: natural tampons inspired by the traditional use of sponges by menstruating women of ancient times. So if you want to bleed like Cleopatra, this is your bag. The Egyptians invented the tampon too – so you can thank them for that little wonder. Sea sponges are available in Teenie, Regular, and Large and you precision(?) fit to size by trimming the sea sponge and experimenting with insertion. Wow. Try not to think about doing dishes or wiping counters or a nice hot sponge bath because really, I can’t see how this is either sanitary OR relaxing. So Sally, if you’re worried about sullying up the seashore, (welcome to my new menstrual tongue twister) this is all the rage amongst mythological aquatic creatures. Apparently, sea sponges are what mermaids use.

Menstrual Cups – i.e.: Diva cup, Mooncup, Instead Softcup, Lunette, Keepercup, LadyCup, Femmecup, Miacup: Ok. Here’s where I drawn the line. This ain’t a Dixie Cup, or a Sippie Cup, a Tommee Tippee Cup or an Ice Cream Cup. This is none of those fun, sweet, childlike associations. But I trust you probably got over that the first time you sprung a leak and wrecked your favorite Underroos or your expensive lingerie for failing to count the days. Maybe I just haven’t been brave enough to go with a new, miserable experience, but let me get this straight . . . i fold a plastic, rubbery cup into a jelly roll, insert this, it pops open like a tulip, i “stir” it around to make sure the umbrella’s been fully deployed, which may take some coaxing and pushing and twisting, and then I pull it out by its dangling tail at intervals, wash it and reinsert it like tiny, portable Tupper Ware?!?!

Oh, hell no!

i am not about to wash my snatch basket in the sink (and carry special, mild, perfume-free, hypo-allergenic fem soap) in between classes or you know, when i take a restroom break to freshen up while out to dinner. i mean, how does one do this discreetly? Oh, and once a month, i get the distinct displeasure of a 5-minute boil for my little traveling jellyfish at the end of the cycle in some dedicated kitchen equipment that never sees food. Or, hey, i can use rubbing alcohol (and not hydrogen peroxide) to sterilize it. But I have to be extremely careful not to soak it too long and allow it to dry completely and not degrade the integrity of the plastic and rinse the residue so I don’t fuck up my vaginal pH.

O.B. tampons sounding better all the time, huh? Can you imagine wringing out your sea sponge? Wouldn’t you rather “touch it” now?

Go With The Flow

There was a time when i worked at a place so uptight, they wouldn’t allow the female staff to carry in a purse. Whether this was for security or to keep outside worldly distractions such as cell phones to a minimum was unclear, but the idea completely incensed my friend Nicole.

“What?” she snapped. “Where are you supposed to carry your tampons, up your ass?”

i explained to her how bad the work environment sucked and how tension and impossible precision reigned, thus, the topic of anal retention seemed a very fitting description. The job had me so upset, i couldn’t poop for a week. Then i quit.

And many light flow days from then, here i was on a Wednesday nite, standing there in the supermarket isle, paralyzed by too many choices and horrible, far-reaching consequences of those attempts at informed decision. There i was: hungry, cranky, wanting ice cream and a heating pad at the same time, thinking about plumbing, and ocean waters and marine life and cancer of the Yoni.

i turn to the woman next to me who is clicking and sucking at her teeth in audible consternation, just like me, and we both smile nervously, amazed at the mini internal crisis over what we’re going to buy. Neither of us will move first, both seem to be wondering how the other will select, looking for a brave trend to follow. Somehow, there’s a preposterous sense of worry over being judged, like bringing a film or a music cd or a book to the checkout clerk, the fear of choosing poorly, unwisely, without taste or sensibilities. “Hmmm,” she says. “Yeahhhhh,” I mutter slowly and drawn out. And we both start giggling.

My cup of joy is overflowing

I consider my internal flowchart for assessing absorbency needs:

junior – aww, isn’t that cute, you inked!

light – Miss Kitty has a nose bleed.

regular – oh, yay. my period’s back.

super – omg that’s a lot of blood.

super plus – jesus, maybe you should go to the hospital!

ultra – uhh, i think that blood clot just asked for a cigarette.

i am looking for regular. Just something in between, just a few tampons, a starter pack, a holdover since i don’t see any of my normal go-tos. And all they have is “a mere scratch” or “Carrie – Prom Scene.”

So i think of the dolphins and the salmon and the seabirds and i grab the 10-pack with the small, recyclable cardboard box and no applicator with the green looking package and eco-claims to fame and the woman next to me does the same. Just enough to soldier on.

It’s all i can do, really. If i don’t want to leave with anymore acronyms. Say, add PTSD to my PMS. Christ Almighty in a hybrid – i can’t even BLEED with out feeling guilty about it in my new sustainable world concept! i leave with my chlorine-free, biodegradable, non-applicator, no plastic, rayon-free tampons and my razors (which are free from animal testing) and a pint of, yes, sorry, blood orange sorbet, and it’s a good thing. While i’m happily eating my cool treat, i don’t need to imagine poor, naked bunnies hopping around with razor burn and nicks with only a maxi-pad to keep them warm. And after all this guilt, i just want to sandwich a washcloth and tuck it in my drawers or just sit on a sock and call it good.

Museum of Menstruation and Women’s Health

for all your bleeding needs . . .

Hello and welcome once again to another installment of “Dirk Mancuso, Big Gay Personal Shopper,” a holiday feature designed to help you find the perfect gift for those hard to please assholes on your gift giving list. With NEW MOON, the next installment in the insipid TWILIGHT series, opening in theaters this Friday, this week yours truly is focusing on what to get the vampire obsessed hoo-hoo’s in your life. 

First up, for the pre-teen adolescent girl and huge flaming ‘mo in your life, Mattel brings us the Edward Cullen and Bella Swan dolls. Standing 12′ and 11 1/2″ respectively and looking nothing like their on-screen counterparts, these dolls are sure delight females on the burdgeoning cusp of womanhood and nellie queens everywhere:

And while he’s not available just yet, fret not Team Jacob members — there will be a 12″ plastic likeness of your favorite lycanthrope/shape shifter/whatever bullshit name he is referred to as come this spring (and just like Edward and Bella, he looks nothing like the actor!)

For the themed-sweater-vest-wearing, mutiple-cat-owning, giggle-snorting old maid with a vampire fixation in your life, you can combine her love of Robert Pattinson (or R-Patts to those in the loop) and provide her nights of endless self pleasure  with The Vamp dildo. Just like Stephanie Meyers’ now (sadly) iconic vampire — and I use that word loosely since I am told her vamps sport no fangs which begs the question how do they drink but I digress — The Vamp is all sparkly just like Edward and his fellow vamps in the sunlight. (Whatever.)

At the opposite end of the (no less disturbing) spectrum, , there’s The Count Cockula Flesh Jack for the undead obsessed chronic masterbater in your life.

Of course, the more discerning vamp fan knows that the only real vampire series worth a tinker’s dam is TRUE BLOOD and the folks at HBO have just the thing to help toast in the New Year: True Blood  O-Positive Blood Orange Soda. Tristan and I had a bottle of this and truthfully, it’s not bad. 

Because somebody somewhere (mistakenly) thought it was a clever idea, for the Goths in your life there are vampire condoms. 

And because I strive to leave no stone unturned in fulfilling all your Christmas shopping needs, for the perpetually single penny pinching muumuu clad Pattinson fan on your list I present to you…the reusable  sexy vampire menstrual flow pad. Yeah, you read that right — reusable. Ack.

Well, that wraps this week’s edition so get out those credit cards and let the shopping merriment begin! 

Coming soon: More fantastic gifts to wow the ass-wipes in your life!

When I was in high school my friend Ashlee had a totally awesome tampon case. It had a very cool retro design and kept all the supplies she needed for her period in one neat and tidy pouch. I was jealous, instead of smoothly grabbing a retro-chic pouch with tampons etc in it to head off to the bathroom, I had to discreetly and bashfully cram a tampon in my pocket without letting any of my male classmate see and sneak off to the bathroom. More than 5 years later I am still cramming stupid little cotton tampons into my pants pocket and slinking off to the bathroom, until now. I recently re-discovered Vinnie’s Tampon Cases while perusing youtube. I happened upon a video on Vinnie’s Tampon Cases and how it all got started. I always wondered why some dude was featured on the outside of a case for women to put their menstrual supplies, I found out this dude was the man.

Vinnie D’Angelo, the founder and producer of Vinnie’s Tampon Cases, started making tampon cases with his mom’s sewing machine in 1996. He decided to start making tampon cases after a female friend of his revealed that she had been kidnapped and raped in high school by a group of men. Vinnie was angry that there were no female characters in pop-culture to serve as role models for young-women, nor were there non-sexual avenues for which men and women could discuss women’s health and safety issues. Hence, Vinnie started making Vinnie’s Tampon Cases. Vinnie describes his project here:

An important part of the project was to never let on that my effort had anything to do with combating rape or violence against women. And in the thousands of interactions and interviews I almost never let on (the one exception being an interview I did for the online website Adiosbarbie.com). My plan was to always present the project with the humble explanation that I simply came up with the idea “after seeing my female friends fumble in the bags for a broken tampon”. My plan was to avoid burdening the case with “a cause”. I wanted the case to bring a smile and to encourage conversations where conversations had never existed before-a non-sexual dialog about a woman’s body between a boy and a girl (Boy- “What’s that?” Girl-”Its a Vinnie’s Tampon Case!” Boy-”What does it do?”). I wanted the case to eventually appear as if it was sanctioned by “the man” so that teens who are all about “sanctioned” products (mainstream gear that keeps them from appearing like a…(gasp) nonconformist) would pick it up and use it.

I’ve always been a “tom boy”. In high school I joined traditional boys sports, I wrestled on my high school’s all boys team, played rugby and wore a pants suite (a la Hilary Clinton, looking back it was a major fashion faux-pas) to Home Coming my sophomore year. Having this mentality, the biggest thing that drew my attention to my friend Ashlee’s tampon case was that it wasn’t designed “with women in mind”. That is, it was not about being ashamed of being a woman and having a period, nor was the case covered in femme soft pinks, purples, flowers and butterflies that are typically attributed to menstruation. Vinnie had this in mind when he designed his tampon cases:

I decided to feature big wheels, revving engines and race flags to attract boys to the products. It was imperative to have the exact opposite look of typical period products, to nix the soft pinks and euphemistic jargon, and replace them with bright reds, bold blacks and unapologetic language that announced the function of the case with authority. I figured women would enjoy this complete departure from the norm. They did and do.

Vinnie includes a period chart with each of his cases so women can track their cycles and stay healthy.

After re-discovering Vinnie’s Tampon Cases after 5 years I ordered one ASAP, from his online store. And must come to the conclusion that he is totally awesome. Mad props to you Vinnie for being so dedicated to women’s health and for keeping men and women in the know about menstruation.

Source: Kids Health

Cramps

Many girls and women find that over-the-counter pain medications (like acetaminophen or ibuprofen) can relieve cramps, as can taking a warm bath or applying a warm heating pad to the lower abdomen. Exercising regularly throughout the monthly cycle may help lessen cramps, too. If these things don’t help, ask your doctor for advice.

Read more at: kidshealth.org

Hur har dagen varit idag?!? Jo det har varit väldigt bra, men en sak är som det är och ja, nu kom det igen… den där mensen – helt otippat måste jag säga, men skönt att det fungerar varje gång. Då vet jag samtidigt att det är så att jag också kommer att ha ett litet extra plus nästa vecka kanske på grund av all vattensamling. Jag har dock inte haft så ont som jag haft annars innan men detär väl i och för sig ganska positivt. Det som jag tycker är jobbigast är att jag inte alls känner för att träna när jag har det – tycker att allting bara är jobbigt och känner mig större än vad jag normalt är. Det är jobbigt, men ska försöka göra det så bra som möjligt!

Med detta kommer också en sak som gör det lite jobbigare. Jag blir så himla mycket mer godissugen. Jag är sugen på det mesta hela tiden känns det som!

Idag har jag slutat på 26 p och har egentligen inte mer än 24 men jag tycker att det är helt okej men inte bra!

Lotta

pregnancy remedy

PCOS has been pregnancy remedy labeled the hidden catching with Pregnancy Cures in women adversity from it. What makes this Cure For Infertility such a affair Cure For Infertility too is that it occurs beyond all contest and areas about the apple Pregnancy Remedy so is not affiliated to any accurate bounded problem. With affection associated with infertility miscarriage abscess and aberrant menstrual cycles this is of affair to a advanced ambit of women abnormally those attractive to conceive. While some apostle medication there is cogent affidavit that there is a PCOS accustomed analysis that can about Pregnancy Remedy cure the affection Pregnancy Remedy of this condition.

PCOS is acquired by an animated akin of macho hormones alleged androgenic hormones abnormally testosterone. These are created by the ovaries but the exact account of this is as yet unknown. Along with infertility and acne weight Pregnancy Remedy gain ovarian cysts insulin resistance acclamation and abounding added problems can action as a absolute aftereffect of PCOS which is a alarming accomplishment for of the apple population

While medication can sometimes ascendancy some of these affection a accomplished ambit of drugs charge be taken for every evidence which can advance to some actual bad ancillary effects budgetary amount and a growing assurance on these drugs. A accustomed cure usually starts appropriate from the basis account of these affection which is authoritative the hormones that comedy calamity with Hello world your anatomy and to Cure For Infertility ambition this account with accustomed treatments and remedies that usually absorb changes of diet exercise levels beddy-bye patterns and more. The allowances of a accustomed cure are that for the best allotment they are additionally acceptable for your accepted bloom as well By alteration your affairs you can be chargeless of PCOS as able-bodied as advance a convalescent activity accretion your affairs of accouchement and abbreviation the affairs of added diseases and conditions.

So afore you about-face to acrid medication a PCOS accustomed analysis can be cheaper bigger for you and can stop the affection of infertility weight accretion and pregnancy remedy others after aberrant treatments.

Bernard, Raymond W. (1901-1965) The Hollow Earth: The Greatest Geographical Discovery in History, Made by Admiral Richard E. Byrd in the Mysterious Land Beyond the Poles — the True Origin of Flying Saucers. New York: Fieldcrest Publishing Company, 1964.

Widely read and reprinted many times, Bernard’s book is considered by many to be the definitive treatise on the hollow Earth theory. The book purports that the Earth has a hollow and habitable interior, with a small sun in place of a molten core, and is inhabited by a race of “superhumans” who are the descendants of the exiled residents of the long lost continents of Atlantis and Lemuria. Bernard claimed that the true North and South poles had not yet been discovered, and that in their place are concave openings to the inner Earth.

Bernard quotes several diary entries and radio announcements by polar explorer Admiral Richard E. Byrd as being definitive proof for his theory that travel to the Earth’s interior was possible. Bernard claims that Byrd’s 1947 and 1956 expeditions took him “beyond the poles” into to a land of lush, green vegetation.

Bernard also popularized the theory that Atlantean inner-Earth beings invented flying saucers (or “vimanas”) many years ago, and were now visiting our realm. He borrowed a lot of these theories from Ray Palmer, the hunchback-dwarf editor of Flying Saucers magazine; Palmer was generally considered by the FBI to be the chief cause of flying saucer hysteria in the 1950s. Hollow Earth theories today are dismissed as pseudoscience, as the claims have been disputed by geodetic data and satellite imagery. True believers, of course, assert this information is fabricated, and is part of a massive governmental conspiracy to keep us from the truth.

Controversy exists as to whether or not an author by the name of Raymond Bernard actually existed. An article penned by Scientific American columnist Martin Gardner claimed that Bernard was actually a pseudonym for a man named Dr. Walter Siegmeister. Dr. Siegmeister was a scientist who initially studied lecithin and its therapeutic aspects. Siegmeister/Bernard also wrote on such varied subjects as utopian settlements, eugenics (Creation of the Superman), Jesus (The Secret Life of Jesus the Essene), constipation (Nutritional Methods of Intestinal Regeneration, Constipation), virgin birth (The Mysteries of Human Reproduction), atomic survivalism (Escape from Destruction: How to Survive in the Atomic Age), Rosicrucianism, sexual abstention (Science Discovers the Physiological Value of Continence), bizarre diets (Organic Way To Health), Atlantis, and how to “cure” menstruation (The Physiological Enigma of Woman: The Mystery of Menstruation). In fact, most of his books contained some skilled amalgamation of a number of these subjects. Bernard/Siegmeister reportedly died in 1965 of pneumonia while searching for a tunnel opening to inner Earth in South America.

The Hollow Earth is truly one of my favorite books. I love the book’s cover, and the rather homemade looking illustrations. It’s chock-full of bizarre hyperbole, meandering logic, and circumlocutory reasoning. Reading it is an experience I can only describe as falling down the occult rabbit hole. Although Bernard’s theories can be debunked pretty easily, there’s a part of me that wishes he was right. I’d certainly fancy a saucer ride to the center of the Earth to meet out Atlantean elders.

“Evidence exists, all we have to do is examine it.”