Warning! Step away from this blog.
In fact, if someone is reading this blog out loud to you, put your hands over your ears now and sing "LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA" at the top of your lungs for the next 3 minutes.
And if you happen to be reading this blog, you'd better pour yourself a big glass of wine before continuing.
But not red wine.
How can I, a living, breathing, female, have possibly made it to middle-age without knowing of this product?
And I just stumbled upon it.
I had been innocently researching GoGirl competitors on Amazon. I was intrigued by the names of female portable urinary devices. The Urinelle is a good name, if you like the word urinate - which I don't.
Considering my affinity for the word "pee", I found the P EZ Ladies' Travel Urinal to be a good name, as was the P-Mate.
Wait a minute. What is that product right next to the Shewee?
The DivaCup Model 2 Post Childbirth?
A little voice in my head told me to step away from the computer.
Did I pay attention? No. I clicked on the photo.
I was still confused. There was no description for this product.
But there were 781 reviews. The little voice began to talk louder.
"Do NOT CLICK ON THE REVIEWS."
Did you know that there is a product that women wear in their va-jay-jays during that time of the month?
A stinkin' shot glass that you fill up with juice from your netherlands.
I warned you to stop reading!
Apparently, the DivaCup Model 2 Post Childbirth is an alternative to the tampon. And mattress pads.
I am sorry to disappoint you, readers, but I will not be test driving a DivaCup Model 2 Post Childbirth.
I suspect that my experience would be similar to that of one very eloquent Amazon reviewer:
Now, you're supposed to roll the cup up, smuggle it past the border, let it expand, then turn it clockwise (or counter clockwise, or then one way and another, stopping when you hear the click, or something...) anyway, you're supposed to be able to turn this thing like a dial in there."If the cup does not turn easily, you did it wrong" Oh, of course, I'll just grasp hold of a thing about the size, shape, and slipperyness of the pointy end of a peeled hard-boiled egg, which is now buried in the meaty folds of my innermost femininity, which, I may add, are well-sluiced with the special effects from a Quentin Tarantino film, and spin that sucker like a dredel.
Yeah. I think I'll pass on this one.
Besides, I think this product has a serious design flaw. How the heck does this DivaCup sit on the table without spilling?