The Diva Cup Chronicles :: The Situation in the Shower


diva cup

Until a month ago, I never thought I’d use a menstrual “Cup.” But a few months ago, several of my mom friends started talking about the Diva Cup and how much they all loved it. And after asking some really graphic questions about what to do in a public restroom and how much does it really hold, I decided to give it a try.

I had to publish this post as Anonymous because I promise you it is true.

This is the story about the time I pooped in the shower.

My husband and I were going on vacation and there was a chance that I’d start my period while we were gone. The Cup certainly took up less room and was more discrete than having to tote a quantity of tampons and pads (which I might not even need).

Sure enough, a few days into the vacation, Aunt (Heavy) Flo appeared. I pulled out the box containing the Cup and read the directions. Pretty straight forward, I thought, as I took the Cup out of the packaging.

Holy cats! The Cup was HUGE, but I followed the direction and folded it to insert. It was a bit of a struggle to get it right (probably because I have a long torso and super short arms). Once it was in, it was great. I couldn’t feel it at all. A few hours later, I tried to remove it, just to see if it was working.

I couldn’t reach it.

Looking at the directions again, it said it will “drop” when it gets full (and it can stay in for up to 12 hours). I didn’t panic. I went to bed, and by morning, I could reach it without an issue.

Day Two was great. It was a busy day filled with a lot of walking (20,000 steps!) and the Cup was a champ! I didn’t have to worry about finding a bathroom or changing my tampon every few hours. Fabulous. I took it out, cleaned it, reinserted, and went to bed.

The next morning, I noticed some leakage. No problem, I was getting in the shower anyway, and it was easier for me to squat to remove the Cup. (Again, short arms, long torso.) But, even though it had been almost 12 hours, I couldn’t reach it.

I continued squatting, and started to bear down, following the instructions. I finally felt the cup with the tip of my fingers….but at the same time, I felt an overwhelming urge to, you know….GO. I had a choice — retrieve the Cup, which was now finally in my grasp or….

I couldn’t stop it. As I pulled the Cup, it happened.

I pooped in the shower. The Cup was out, but the shower was a mess. I did what any logical person would do in that situation: I tried to force the waste down the drain. With my feet.

Which caused the drain to back up and clog.

And I still had to go.


The stream of water from the shower will force it down, I thought, as I moved across the bathroom to the toilet to finish what I started.

But as I sat there, I watched as the water in the shower continued to rise. Good God, I wish I were kidding.

I didn’t have a choice. I got back into the shower, now up to my ankles in backed up, brown waste water, and continued to use my toes to try to clear the drain. It didn’t work.

Looking around, I saw my tweezers. It was my only hope, if I didn’t want to call maintenance or explain to my husband what was going on.

After what seemed like an eternity of jabbing my tweezers into the holes of the drain, the water started to recede and finally drained all the way.

At this point, I’d been in the bathroom WAY too long. My husband knocked on the locked door and asked if I was okay. “Just enjoying the shower,” I called, digging through my toiletry bag for my package of makeup wipes.

I scrubbed the shower down as much as I could. I got back in, and I scrubbed myself, especially my legs and feet. And then I started laughing. Uncontrollable, tears streaming, stomach-aching laughter.

Bottom line: The Cup really didn’t work for me. I had to pay $8 for the world’s smallest package of tampons in the hotel gift shop. And my husband still wonders why I couldn’t stop laughing that day.

Also, I need new tweezers.

The Diva Cup Chronicles continue…..

The Diva Cup Chronicles :: The BFF Texts



    • ON THE PLUS SIDE – now I know that my fears of pooping when removing the cup are totally justified. I also feel like I’m about to fire the cup out of my junk like a horrific blood cannon whenever I’m TRYING to poop.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here