I think my mom was aiming for something between fact of life and blessing, but she's not real new agey (alright, not at all new agey), so maybe not a blessing. She did want it to be a matter of fact thing that could be discussed without shame. At the dinner table. Or with her coworkers. x(
By that time, though, I'd already absorbed all the cultural messages of shame, so that was kind of a lost cause and the public conversations just pissed me off. Plus, I was like, ugh, well, this sucks. We had sticky pads and tampons, and I remember my mom not being too impressed when I was small and found used plastic applicators in the trash (the playtex ones which were a nice shade of pink and all rounded and smooth and nice to feel) and made them into little dolls with faces. I guess I should have gotten the message back then that nobody likes a recycler.
So with my kid, I aimed for matter of fact, no disgust, but discreet with practical tips.
When one of my kids at school sneaks into my room to ask if I have spare tampons, I quietly tell them, no I gave up hauling those around years ago, and I write down divacup on a post-it note and tell them to look it up when they get home. And I send them to the office, cause they have some there. I am steathily turning the next generation into a bunch of divacup wearing DU scaring degenerates, one girl at a time.
I am looking forward to menopause. The feminist perspective, I don't know that I have one deep down. I mostly wanted the cup cause I hate having to buy that crap in public all the time. I saw on the museum site that kotex sales went way up when they changed their sales technique to a box on the counter that you could quietly drop money into and take the pads, without having to make small talk with a cashier as he's ringing up your personal items. I totally get that. Also, I don't carry a purse, and I was tired of trying to stash tampons every damn place, in my socks, down my bra, holy fuck, that's some annoying shit, I don't care who tries to tell me how convenient that is.
On top of all that, my store went to putting the OBs on the top shelf, like they can't figure out maybe the typical customer for that particular product isn't 6 feet tall. I don't know what they expected us to do. I remember thinking at one point I should just pack mountain climbing gear with me, scale up the shelves to grab what I need and rappel back down when I was done. I freaking hate having to find some random tall dude in the store to ask if he could come with me to the tampon aisle cause I can't reach what I need, and then having to discuss with him the exact details of what I use. So I got the cup thing really from an
anti-feminist perspective, which makes it all the funnier when folks here are accusing me of worshipping the earth goddess of menstrual blood. I'm just like dude, unless you're volunteering to be the tall guy in the store for me, you shut up about what's convenient. Unpacking my mountain climbing gear once a month in the store ain't convenient. I don't care how much it feels like a sign from God that those shoe spikey things are called "crampons," they still shouldn't be a required part of the monthly experience.
Other things that influenced my attitudes: reading a friend's blog where she was discussing women going on the pill round the clock to avoid any periods. I was thinking, eh, well, if I was on the pill anyway, yeah, I'd do that. I'm the first to admit I'd rather not deal with it at all. But even though I disagreed with her, that post broadened my perspective. And I have another friend, a guy, whose writing has made me more aware of attitudes I hold in myself that are misogynistic.
Here's the post:
http://www.genderracepower.com/?p=5 and I really like this quote from one of her comments: This behavior is part and parcel of patriarchal capitalism, behavior which keeps women spending money they don’t have attempting to attain impossible standards of feminine “perfection.”
(Impossible standards of feminine perfection: "good" women have their periods without ever having a leak, their tampons fly like butterflies from their butts and dispose of themselves invisibly without ever being touched by a lady's pure fingers.)