As promised, here’s my ode to The Keeper. It’s not for the dainty or squeamish. There’s lots of talk of menstrual blood and vaginas, and if such things make you squirm, you should probably grow up stop reading.

Let’s start with a general introduction to The Keeper. It’s a latex cup that sits inside your vagina and catches menstrual blood. It’s held in place by the muscles in your vaginal canal, and there’s a very slight natural suction seal that prevents it from leaking. There are more than a few FAQs online, and I encourage you to read a few for more background information.

I got my Keeper a year and a half ago as a gift from Kara. I regarded it with a little apprehension, and didn’t use it for several cycles. It looks, well, big. It’s actually not that big, considering some of the other things most of us girls have had in us, but there’s something about that long tab that freaked me out. Then I did a little reading and realized oh: you’re supposed to trim that tab to whatever length works best for you. Some women cut the tab off completely. After a little experimenting, mine is only about a centimeter long.

After almost six months of ignoring my Keeper, I finally decided to try it. I liked the practicality of it: nothing to throw away, and no more buying tampons. It lasts for 10 years. I also liked the fact that it wasn’t absorbent. Especially near the end of my menstrual cycle, tampons start to feel like they’re sucking the life out of me, absorbing non-menstrual vaginal fluids that should be left where they are. These are some of the same things to that drove me to try Instead back in the day (with slightly disastrous results). The prospect of only having to deal with it twice a day also appealed to me. Amy explained to me that you empty the cup once in the morning, once in the evening. Much less time intensive than tampons.

Here’s the first thing to know about using a Keeper: you have to be really comfortable with yourself. In my experience, inserting and removing The Keeper necessitates using three fingers. If you’ll excuse my ranting for a moment, I think that every adult woman should be comfortable enough with her body that she’s not afraid to get her own fingers tips up in herself, but I realize that there are some folks for whom this would be somehow not ok. There’s also those who are into long fancy fingernails, and for you girls, any sort of vagina fingering is probably not a good idea, whether The Keeper is involved or not.

Putting it in involves folding it in half laterally, and then in half again. Then you, well, shove it up into yourself. And yes, that can take three fingers (thumb and first two fingers), especially while you’re still getting used to it. Once it’s lodged in your vaginal canal, you need to use your thumb and pointer finger to rotate it a bit, making sure that it’s fully opened and is in place. This took me a few times to get right — and yes, there was some leakage before I got the knack of things. That’s what panty liners are for. Oh and one thing? The Keeper isn’t quiet during insertion. Basically speaking, you’re sticking a suction cup into a wet tube. There are sometimes some interesting sounds. Don’t fret: It’s not the end of the world, and no one can hear you. Even in a public restroom. It’s like chewing: it only sounds loud inside your head.

Once inside you, The Keeper just sits there. You can’t really feel it, although if I have it in the wrong place, it sometimes adds a little pressure to my bladder. Then again, I have a bladder the size of a cashew and tampons put pressure on it, too. Once you get the hang of inserting it correctly, there’s very little leakage, although I still employ the equivalent of Keeper training wheels and use panty liners.

As for taking The Keeper out? Like insertion, it takes some practice. Again, thumb and two fingers in, bear down and squeeze the base to break the light suction, and then pull. Pour out the accumulated blood, rinse it off with warm water, then reinsert.

The Keeper forces/teaches you to be really comfortable with your own menstrual blood. I’m not a squeamish person, but I the first few times I took The Keeper out, I felt like I was in a bad slasher flick. There’s a learning curve on how to remove the cup to minimize mess, and let’s just say that the first couple times are a little shocking. 8 hours of menstrual blood! ALL AT ONCE! It’s simultaneously a whole lot, and really not all that much. Maybe a couple tablespoons. But for those of us used to a hyper-sanitized/never touch blood menstrual experience, it takes a moment to get used to. It took me a couple tries to figure out the technique for removing The Keeper in a way that involves no splattering or “popping.” (If you’ve used it, you know what I mean.)

Interestingly, seeing all this blood quickly became a benefit for me. I like being able to see what’s coming out of me — I like having a familiarity with the color and consistency of my own bodily fluids. It’s another way to track my health and feel like I really know what’s going on with my body.

When I was 13, my mother threw a Coming Of Age party for a friend of mine who’d just started her period. I baked a cake, the top of which read “It’s not gross … it’s a gift from the goddess!” It was splattered with red food coloring for effect. While I don’t really think my period is a gift from anyone other than evolution, I feel like having a closer relationship with it is a way to celebrate my mammalian nature. My menstrual cycle is what defines me as not a reptile or bird. Or machine, for that matter.

Feminist theory aside, it’s a convenience factor, really. No more shopping for tampons. No more dealing with myself bleeding four or five times a day. It’s great for camping: no used menstrual products to pack out (and trust me: there’s not many things grosser than a little plastic baggy filled with several days of used tampons). It’s super for swimming. Like Instead, Keepers would be great for stripping (as I wrote back in the day, “no tell-tale string!”).

Oh and what about dealing with a Keeper public restrooms? I usually deal with mine at home in the morning and evening, but it’s not hard to empty in a public restroom. Bring two paper towels into the stall with you, one wetted from the sink and one dry. Use the wet one to wipe out your Keeper after removal, then the dry one to wipe off your hands after insertion. No big deal.

So, in sum, here are the pros: cost efficient, only deal with it twice a day, better for environment, helps you get in touch with your body. As for the cons, there’s the learning curve, potential for mess, and problems for those with long fingernails or aversions to touching themselves.

If you want to try it out here you go. Also, while I use The Keeper, there are other menstrual cups available, such as the Diva Cup and the Moon Cup.

PS: If you’re looking for additional Keeper/menstrual cup information, I definitely recommend this LJ community.