The Diva Sized Disaster

Normally, I can pee anywhere. Outside, inside, toilet, coffee can, big gulp cup… really doesn’t matter to me.

But when you factor in a few variables, you can find out exactly what your limits are: Where you draw the lines and boundaries of your bladder. In order to set up the story properly, I need to share the variables with you, so you can understand how this story came to pass.

Variable #1: NOEL. (Pronounced “NO WELL”)
My Gma Bush’s farm is currently without running water. They are digging a new well this week, and there is no place to wash your hands or flush. There are, however, a plethora of secluded areas a girl can cut loose.

Variable #2: Rummage Sale in 97 degree weather
This means that lots and lots of people are hovering around and looking in places they shouldn’t (cause people are nosey- they just are) and all your secluded areas become null and void. And with the heat, your clothes become sweaty and wet and clingy. You can’t whip your pants up fast if someone comes nosing around the corner and catches you with your pants down.

Variable #3: Mother Nature
Normally, on the second day of Aunt Flow’s visit, I do not leave the house unless there is a national disaster (such as running out of milk- a disaster of epic proportions in this house) because– and there is no pleasant way to say this so I am just going to spit it out- I throw more clots and clods of mess than a golfer with a bad case of anti-depth perception. Disgusting, but true. What happens on days like this if I use a tampon is the clot attaches itself to the top of the tampon, and everything else falls out instead of being absorbed. Lovely, isn’t it? So I have discovered by using a Diva Cup I can catch everything. But it has to be emptied out about every 2 hours to do its job on days like this. And you have to wash your hands to change it, and need water to clean it. Normally, when you are not dealing with NOEL, it's no big deal. However, removing access to water changes everything...

Variable #4: Treatment of the “Yeastie Boys”
I learned a long time ago that if you “apply” a treatment for a yeast infection just before wearing a tampon, the tampon becomes null and void- along with the medicine you just insterted with the plunger/turkey baster. Then you have to start the whole treatment process over again. And I don’t do those 1 day egg shaped treatments. I have never had success with them. I get the drawn out 7 day ones, that lick the problem completely.

Variable #5: TWO hours of sleep
This left your old pal Charlie here exhausted and not running on all 4 cylinders. As you will soon find out…


So Matt and I got to the farm about 7:20am, in preparation for the big rummage sale on Saturday morning. I was excited and exhausted, but ready to do whatever needed done. Anything to help out my Mom, Margaret the Saint. She has been bogged down with details and things ever since Gma passed away. She’s stressed, so Matt and I want to do as much as we can to help. This includes crawling out of bed at 6:45 on a Saturday morning. The things we do for love…

In preparation for the day, I thought ahead and washed 5 pairs of underwear. My reasoning behind this was simple: if your underwear is soaked with sweat, you can’t apply a backup pad. So if I took extra unders with me, I could simply put on a fresh pair, stick on a fresh pad, and go about my day. (Sometimes my brilliance astounds me…)

Armed with my 5 pairs of skivvies and an insane amount of coffee, we drove to the farm. And people were already shopping. They had been since 6:30am. (The garage sale started at 8am. WHO DOES THAT?) (No offense, Bonnie- I heard you were there before Matt and I arrived. Thanks for shopping! Hee hee) So Margaret the Saint was stressing out a little more than I anticipated.

Matt and I kicked into overdrive and got busy, marking final items, moving stuff onto the driveway, etc.. Before I knew it, it was 8:30, and I needed to empty the Diva Cup and get a fresh pair of undies on with a dry Always. (it was dripping with sweat)

I went into the house, washed my hands with the water in a jug, and took care of business. I used baby wipes to wipe out the Diva, and got it back in place. I had to pour out it’s contents onto a stack of toilet paper I had in a little garbage can, then discretely tied it up in a Walmart bag. I then peed in a cup, walked outside with my cup and my bag, emptied the contents of the cup on the flower bed, and threw the pee cup and the bag in the dumpster. Not the best plan, so I figured I’d do it differently next time.

And true to my character, I sat for the next 2 hours, wheeling and dealing and formulating a plan. 10:30 rolled around, and I was mentally prepared to deal with the Diva.

THIS TIME, with my purse on the floor beside me, I stood in the bathroom and peed in a cup first. Last time, I almost peed on the floor from not doing it first. Then I grabbed the Diva cup. This time, the contents of my Monistat had decided to join the period party, so the cup was extremely full- almost to the top. I had a wad of toilet paper in my hand, and I shoved it into the Diva Cup, so it would soak up the contents and I wouldn’t have to see it. It was the perfect plan!

WHAT HAPPENED INSTEAD: As I shoved the toilet paper in the Diva Cup, I forgot to shove it in uniformly, due to my exhausted state. I focused on the side closest to me. The nasty-yuck in the cup shot out the other side (thankfully away from my bright yellow shirt) and slopped out onto my purse. My white and black CANVAS PURSE. Which now looked like a crime scene.

Horrified, I grabbed a stack of baby wipes and started scrubbing the purse, trying to remove the bloodstain as quick as I could, leaving my Diva Cup on the counter of the sink. I finally gave up on saving the purse, and looked back to the Diva Cup. Everything, including the toilet paper (if you could still call it that) and the other parts were slowly oozing down the counter and getting ready to go over the edge onto the floor. THE CARPETED FLOOR.

I scrambled with another stack of baby wipes and panic strickenly wiped my little heart out. I saved the carpet, but wound up killing half a box of baby wipes, and my favorite purse. And was in the bathroom for 20 minutes.

Then I had to deal with getting protection again. I figured since I had already lost the monistat, I might as well wear a tampon and change it every 30 minutes for the rest of the morning and afternoon. I NEEDED my Diva Cup, but the no water or flushing toilets issues sure did complicate matters. So tampons it was. Annoying, yes. But considering the present state of matters, it was worth it in the end.

I also decided that it would be best to hide ALL evidence of my Diva Sized disaster and shoved the gross baby wipes into another walmart bag. I grabbed another walmart bag and put the Diva Cup in there too- no way would I throw it out accidently. (FYI- once I searched through a garbage can to dig it out after it accidently fell in there. That's how much I love my Diva Cup!) Then I walked out into the throws of the rummage sale, holding my purse awkwardly so it wouldn’t get onto my yellow shirt, and went straight to my car, where I dumped my pee cup by my tire, and hid any other evidence of period chaos under my front seat.

All in all, Margaret the Saint had a wonderful turnout for the day, made some decent money, Matt and I both got sunburned, and it was a fantastic day overall.

And what did I learn???

Every Diva has her “day.”
PERIOD.

(And for the record, I would recommend a Diva Cup to anyone. I love it, and although I had technical issues with it this day, the problems were with the operator, not the cup itself! For more information about the Diva Cup, please visit their website!)