I was actually excited to start my period last night. Partially because my cycle was at the 44 day point, so it was time. I had no fear of pregnancy, and was pretty calm about my late period – I just ran a half marathon about 10 days ago and know that towards the end of the training my body is under pretty heavy stress – but it’s still nice to get back on track. (As another aside, I have a gynecology appointment on Friday, as well as a massage appointment, so it’s nice to know my period will be over by the time those roll around.) But the real reason I was excited to start my period? I got a menstrual cup that I have been looking forward to trying out! I find tampons can be itchy or uncomfortable, plus the waste builds up and having to make sure I have a supply for my next period is annoying. My doctor recommended trying a menstrual cup, I’ve heard great things from other people that use them…it seemed like it was time to try!
I’ve read all the material, so I got out the cup and sanitized it, washed my hands, folded the cup, then pushed it into my vagina, inducing that awful, searing, burning pain caused by attempting to put something way too large into a virgin, restricted vagina. Noooo! I got the smallest menstrual cup, specifically designed for those with lighter periods, no sexual activity, and small vaginal canals. Why won’t it go in? I tried every fold type. I tried every body position. I tried wetting the cup. But pretty soon I was too sore and sad to try any more. Why is it so discouraging to not be able to get this little flexible cup inside my body? Probably because most women who try menstrual cups use them successfully (even others who have never had penetrative sex), and there is honestly no way I’ll get that thing in there! (I tried again this morning.) I think the real sadness inducer is the reminder that I’m a 26 year old virgin. Not only am I a 26 year old virgin, but I’ve never had a significant other, have only been on 3 dates in my life (all last summer, none of them very date-like), and have never been kissed. I have a good life; I don’t mind being single, but never having had a make-out session? That’s pretty…embarrassing. It makes me feel flawed; undesirable; inadequate. Thanks a lot, menstrual cup, for making me feel inadequate.
It’s not like these feelings are new. I shouldn’t have been surprised! I went through the exact same thing a few weeks ago with a medical professional. I went in to see my doctor for my annual check-up, and I had decided ahead of time that I would finally have my five-years-over-due pap screening. My doctor had been fine waving it in the past since I am low risk for cervical cancer – never been sexually active, had the HPV vaccine, no other related symptoms or health concerns – but it had been weighing on my mind, and I decided it was time to invoke my life mantra “don’t be unnecessarily afraid.”
I was definitely nervous and uncomfortable. My last experience spreading my legs for someone was 17 years ago when I had a kidney infection. I was nine years old, scared and confused, and no one took the time to make me feel comfortable. I guess the doctor assumed that’s what my mom was there for, but I don’t remember her saying anything reassuring. I just remember having to take off my khaki capris pants and underwear, dawn a hospital gown, and lay down on a padded doctor’s office table. When the doctor came in, I put my legs up and he looked at my urethra, I assume. I really didn’t understand what was happening at the time. I know I cried, and I know I felt humiliated. (I remember feeling like there was no way I’d ever be able to have a baby, because I planned to never let a doctor down there again!) I’ve thought of that day many times over the past 17 years, but I never told a soul about it until about a year ago. The shame followed me that long. I don’t remember my mom saying anything to me about it either. I’m guessing she sensed my desire to forget about it. Thinking about it now makes me sad for that little girl, but even sadder for those that are molested as children. What happened to me was a medical procedure. I never felt like what the doctor did was inappropriate or gross, but it still had lasting effects of shame and fear.
That’s my history with spread-leg examinations, but I’m an adult woman now, and adult women have their cervixes checked, and maybe it’s uncomfortable, but we’re strong and confident and let’s do this! I had to sit on the bench with a thin paper blanket over my lap (what covers my butt, I wanted to ask) and wait for the doctor to come in. Thankfully I like her and she makes me comfortable, and I honestly didn’t mind spreading my legs and having her down there. It was kind of natural and not that big of a deal. Pretty soon I forgot that I don’t normally have conversations with someone inspecting my vagina, labia, clitoris, and anus. She kindly explained the process, told me it typically only took a minute or two, warmed the speculum under water, applied gloves, and then traded out the moderately sized speculum for one you would use on an elephant. I mean, she must have! There was no way that giant thing was sliding in! Are you kidding me? I tried to take deep breaths and relax, but as she pushed it in, the pain got worse and sharper, making it harder to relax. She was so nice about it: apologizing, talking me through every step, trying smaller and differently shaped specula, applying topical numbing gel, suggesting I put my hands under my butt to change the angle of my cervix. Meanwhile I was just getting more and more sore and disheartened.
My sweet doctor was so sympathetic! She felt bad about causing me pain, and didn’t want to hurt me. But we both agreed to keep trying things, because we just wanted to get the sample! There was just no way to get the speculum open far enough to get the wand in.
I can’t really explain the pain I was feeling. A simple explanation might be that I just don’t have a high pain tolerance. Perhaps that’s true. But I have run three half marathons which are definitely painful at times, and I’m not opposed to a challenging work-out class that leaves me weak and sore all over. Sure, these are different types of pain, but I’m not naturally pain-averse. When my doctor put the speculum inside me (even after I was supposedly numb) it felt like she was tearing my vaginal canal. I honestly thought I was bleeding. It felt like the equivalent of putting a ruler down my throat. The shape clearly wasn’t designed correctly! Apart from feeling a burning and tearing sensation, I also felt an uncomfortable pressure against my bowels. Unfortunately, there’s no way to grin-and-bear-it in this situation. She probably would have caused damage if she forced the speculum open. So we had to give up. Here’s the kicker: my doctor has never failed to complete a pap screening due to a pussy that won’t budge! What a way to be unique! She decided to refer me to the women’s clinic so I could see an OBGYN, hoping that they would have some tricks up their sleeve for getting a speculum up my vag. (On the positive side, I have no more anxiety about spreading my legs for a doctor. The part that I was most concerned about – keeping the privates private – is no longer a concern for me.)
I left the doctor’s office that day feeling defeated and deflated. I had gone in feeling powerful and strong, (I was conquering a fear!). I had already written the story in my mind. “I got a pap screening today!” I would tell my friends. “Yay me! Adulting hard!” Not so fast… my vagina had other plans. I already apparently can’t date, have no hook-up stories, can’t even reminisce about my first kiss, now I can’t get a cervical cancer screening?! Who gave me permission to be a woman? I felt so inadequate (and sore, by the way). The rest of that day I felt like people could see through me, and every perceived slight felt like judgement.
It’s completely unfair to put all that pressure on myself. I can’t control the size of my vagina! It’s nothing to feel less-than about. I assume that eventually I will have a successful pap screening, and if a menstrual cup won’t fit, I have other options. (I recently learned that part of the comfort problem with tampons might be that I’m not pushing them in far enough – hello, 26 year-old here, learning about how to use a tampon properly). I also discovered – and love! – absorbent period underwear, which may hold the answer to the comfortable periods of my dreams.
This chapter of my story is not over. In a few days I’ll let another medical professional try to pry open my vagina. I’ll continue to battle with the shame of my virginity, until maybe someday that story is also in my past. And I’ll slowly, but surely, learn to appreciate my body for all its unconventional and unique attributes. Hopefully. For now, you’ll likely find me soothing my wounded spirit with a handful of chocolate chips.
I wrote this essay last June. The only update is that I did finally get a successful pap screening. And that now I am a 27 year-old virgin.