I know what you’re thinking: Maya, please, start at the beginning. You’re thinking: please, Maya, nothing would make me happier than to hear a step by step retelling of the fascinating time you dissolved your menstrual sanitary item while attempting to sterilize it. Well gosh, I sure am glad to hear you say that. So unprompted! I would love to.
The day started out like any other. I awoke from my slumber at 11:30 am sharp, covered in blood. Normally, I would think nothing of this. But, today, I knew something was different. I brewed my morning elixir, a triple shot espresso with three pumps of vanilla, and contemplated the problem.
Suddenly, and with horror, I realized that the same thing that was happening today was what had happened exactly a month prior, every single month, for the past decade. Why hadn’t I thought of it before! Of course! I must be experiencing my monthly blood ritual, I realized, the answer suddenly so clear.
Like any other sustainable member of modern society who is intent on avoiding a climate disaster that is wholly and entirely caused by individual consumers and no one else, I avoid using tampons, pads, and other disposable products. It is up to me, the average individual, to solve a global climate catastrophe, and I do so by using a diva cup.
To prepare, I set my large cast iron rounded pot on the fire in my backyard and began filling my pot with various brews (water). My two closest friends (proximity-wise, not emotionally), came to join me (they left their rooms, we are roommates). We each grabbed as long and large a spoon we could find and bent over the pot, stirring seemingly endlessly. As the brew came to a rolling boil we chanted our sacred incantation (Verse 3 of Nicki Minaj’s smash hit, “Bottoms Up”), and delicately dropped my diva cup into the concoction.
Well, you can only guess what happened next. That’s right – in a poof of smoke, and a flash of lightning, my diva cup was gone, dissolved into our brew, never to be seen again. We fished around in there for a bit with our soup ladle, but nothing came of it. Perhaps this should be taken as a cautionary tale for all witches and recreational diva cup-users alike: always follow the recipe.