Be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win your own CycleBeads!

Keeping track of your menstrual cycle using CycleBeads is easy and all-natural. No hormones or pills to pop! If your cycle is between 26 and 32 days long, you can use the beads as a visual cue for when you’re likely to get pregnant (days 8 through 19). If you want to get pregnant, have fun! If you don’t, you can still have fun, but you’ll need to use protection.

CycleBeads are based on the Standard Days Method of natural family planning. When used correctly, the method is 95% effective in preventing pregnancy. Of course, that means that a woman has to keep the beads in a spot where she’ll see them every day, and she’ll have to remember to move the bead. (fyi – The white beads glow in the dark!)

The beads are a fantastic tool for teaching women about their cycles. It empowers women to be mindful of their bodies and their reproductive capabilities, especially in circumstances where other methods of birth control are not easily accessible.

I am not much of an app aficionado, but I do like iCycleBeads for my iPhone (there’s also an app for Android). Even though I am not concerned about pregnancy, it is important for me to keep track of my cycle because of other health concerns I have. I prefer the app because I always have my phone with me, and I like getting the automated alerts.

WIN CycleBeads!

Do you keep track of your cycle? How? What has worked for you and what hasn’t? Leave a comment and on August 15th, I’ll pick a winner. Make sure to use a good email address so that I can contact you if you win!

I had two friends send me period-related links this week, so I thought I would share.

This one was sent to me by my friend Rachel who wrote the piece Tuesday’s Underpants for my Best Blog Series Ever: Periods.

The second link came courtesy of my friend Rachelle, she of Magpie Girl fame and current tender of the Flock. It’s a list of what people in other countries call their periods, though right now I like “Rebooting the Ovarian Operating System.”

If you didn’t catch it the first time around, I urge you to check out posts from the blog series. And if you have some more funny or interesting links about periods, leave the info in the comments!

And please do check out my Q&A with Elissa Stein, author of “Flow: The Cultural Story of Menstruation.” Or check her out on The View.

When I did a series of blog posts about menstruation a few months ago, one of the themes that emerged is that most of us didn’t get a lot of helpful and supportive guidance about menstruation when we needed it. Even now as adults, there is still an element of shame about this most natural process.

Elissa Stein is on a mission to change that. Her new book is FLOW: A Cultural Story of Menstruation and it is chock-full of info on all things menstrual – including some disturbing advertisements from the 1940s in which Lysol was touted as a “gentle” yet effective douche. (Ouch!)

Elissa kindly answers a few of my questions:

What made you want to write this book? What do you think it offers that other books on menstruation don’t?

The first glimmers of FLOW came about 15 years ago, when my period stopped and I was too terrified/ashamed to tell anyone. It took a year before I finally went to a doctor who, after everything looked ok, handed me a pack of birth control pills and told me we had to jump start my hormones. No exploration as to why it stopped (anorexia), just a chemical quick fix. I was angry, frustrated, disheartened both by there not being anywhere to go for information and that the subject was so difficult for me to talk about. I wanted to create something that would take away the stigma I’d grown up with.  

There are some great books out there, but FLOW is the only one that tells the visual story. In this society, where we get so much information from media and advertising, seeing what shapes our feelings and thoughts is a vital part of the whole.

Can I ask you about your own “first period” story? Were you prepared for it, or were you surprised and terrified? How do you think that first experience shaped your ideas about periods?

I didn’t get my first period until I was 14, years after the trauma of learning about it from that fifth grade film. I don’t remember discovering that it had started or how I dealt in the moment. I do remember begging my mother not to tell anyone. So, when my father announced at dinner, “I heard you started menstruating today,” as calmly as if discussing the weather, I was beyond mortified. I ran, sobbing, to my room and swore I’d never speak to anyone again. For the rest of my life. Obviously, that didn’t last.

As the mother of a tween daughter, how are you approaching the issue of menstruation with her? What do you think girls of this generation have going for them that earlier generations did not? What is not working in their favor?

Having worked on FLOW for three long years, menstruation is a matter of fact topic of conversation at my house. Both my daughter and my soon-to-be 9-year-old son are well versed in products options, how the system works, what PMS can look like, and how to make tampon rockets.

While on one hand, it’s heartening that so much information is available now compared to when I was growing up, the message of shame and secrecy is still being hawked. Plus, the rise of menstrual suppression advertising creates a whole new dilemma. The message that periods are an inconvenience that can be solved by popping a pill is being sold to girls on television, in magazines. Chemically altering natural cycles isn’t something to be taken lightly, but upbeat ads minimize side effects and potential long-term effects.

FLOW touches on some of the sad history regarding the way that women and their bodies have been maligned by religion, tradition and advertising. Unfortunately, I think we carry this history with us, even when we don’t want to and even though we know better than to believe it. Nevertheless, the myths and misunderstandings of the past seem to worm their way into the present. How do we move forward? How do we leave behind what isn’t true or helpful, and still embrace some sense of the sacred femininity that our ancestors seemed to understand — a connectedness to the rhythms of life that we don’t seem to notice.

At this point we’re generally so cut off from nature, from intuition, from what’s going on inside, it’s sometimes hard to see a way out of the prison that’s been built for us. One of the reasons FLOW is in the world is to start conversations, to get people thinking, and by talking and exploring, to start chipping away at those age old walls that have been built up.

We live in a unique time in history. Walk down the “Feminine Care” aisle at Target and there are a ton of options for pads and tampons. We also have a lot of choices when it comes to birth control. Yet most of us are woefully under-educated about what our choices mean for our hormone balance, our fertility, and the environment. Besides reading FLOW (which everyone should do!), what else can we do to become more informed?

So much of our education about menstruation and birth control comes from manufacturers, who have a vested interest selling us their products as well as their stories of convenience, of secrecy, of shame. This sounds ridiculous, but people shouldn’t believe everything they see in TV, print or online ads. People need to scratch the surface. Research. Read. Ask questions.

Ok, I’ll share my most embarrassing period story if you share yours. I was a teenager, maybe 16 or 17, and a boyfriend was over to my house visiting. We were in the living room watching TV when my dog drags in this bloody mess in his mouth. I knew instantly it was my pad from the bathroom trash and I hurriedly tried to grab it out of his mouth. I ended up chasing him around the house and trying to tackle him. They guy had no idea what was going on, and was like “Oh my God, what is that? What is wrong with your dog? Is he bleeding?” I think by the end of it, the guy realized why I was so embarrassed and we both tried to pretend it didn’t happen. Awkward!

Worst ever? Had to be eighth grade, woodworking class.  I went to the bathroom and discovered my period had started and there was a huge reddish brown stain across the butt of my white carpenter pants. Total mortification. Panicking, I told my friend Paul I must have sat in puddle of wood stain. He very thoughtfully lent me his flannel shirt to tie around my waist for the rest of the day. I spent three more classes terrified people would figure out what was really going on.

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Want more?

Listen to Elissa Stein and Susan Kim, authors of FLOW speaking with Dr. Oz on Oprah Radio.

Watch Elissa talk FLOW on The View on Tuesday, March 9.

Follow @ElissaStein on twitter

The blog series that I recently did on the topic of menstruation was a success in many ways. It garnered record visits and comments (hey, 4 or 5 comments on a post is a lot for me!), and it brought together a variety of perspectives. But I couldn’t help feeling that important voices were missing from the mix. When I connected with Monte via twitter, I thought his perspective as a transman was really important to include.

I asked him to write a bit about his experience, and he kindly obliged — even in the midst of his midterms. Thanks Monte for sharing your story here…

Before I really go into anything, I suppose I ought to point out the obvious: this is all based on my own experiences and of a few others I know, and I clearly don’t speak for all transmen, or even most, since I only know a handful other than myself.  As far as background information, I am twenty years old, have had my top surgery in July of this year.  However, I have not been on testosterone long, having had surgery first, and I, for now at least, still get my period.

I suppose I ought to start with my original view on them, which was heavily influenced by two main things.  One being that my first encounter with even the barest shred of the idea was as a bored third-grader who, having plowed through the Lord of the Rings trilogy was looking for light reading and unknowingly began reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.  This, of course led to the inevitable awkward conversation with my mother, which was more informative than many of the ones I’m sure that my friends received, but for me, was baffling, partially because I was unsure as to why it was so important for me to know.

My confusion mostly stemmed from a sort of myth I had generated for myself as a child, in which I had become convinced that the reason I didn’t feel right was because I was actually a boy who had, in some freak mix-up, been altered by the doctors into a girl without my parents’ knowledge.  Looking back on that, it was rather irrational, but I suppose I could attribute that to my age.  Even after I’d kind of grown out of that belief, I was still rather hopeful that surely when I hit puberty I’d show up as I really was.  As a result, actually getting my period was a sort of epiphany moment for me.  A bad one, but one nonetheless; as it pretty much hit home that this was it, this was the body I was stuck with.

Early on, I just dealt with it much like anyone else, I suppose.  It was uncomfortable and it bothered me, but not much else.  As I got older, however, I became more and more resentful of it until it became more of a monthly slap in the face than anything else.  As a result, I think over the years, I formulated the belief that other people must surely be resentful of theirs as well, though not for the same reasons.  I’m not sure that this will change after mine stops, or whether I’m so set in my ways in that respect that it will be difficult if not impossible to do so.

Sincerely,
Monte

I have really enjoyed pulling together this blog series, and I especially loved having so many wise and wonderful women contribute and post comments. I have learned a lot, and not just about periods — but about how much stronger we can be when we are brave enough to share our stories and support each other.

As I wrap up the series today, I think it’s important to point out that these blog contributions were mainly from an American (and therefore relatively privileged) point of view. Millions of girls and women do not have the luxury of birth control pills, pads, or tampons. They use rags, bark or mud to collect their menstrual flow and miss many days of school and work each year.

Suzanah Raffield tells this story:

I met Neema in April on a scouting trip in Tanzania. I work with an amazingly agile south Alabama church that asked me to take them on an international journey. Once I met Neema, and the village where she ministers, I knew we had our destination.

I already knew that the overwhelming majority of women in the area lived on less than $1 per day and that sanitary napkins were a luxury item that most women could not afford. Neema told me that women in the village didn’t wear panties. Without panties, how would a standard 21st century sanitary napkin be of use to them? There was no garbage pick up in the village. Sustainability was key.

I returned home with a plan and the women of Elba got busy crafting re-usable sanitary napkins. We decided to call them Kidete Couture, which, in my opinion, is the hip name they deserve. 200 were made and enthusiastically transported to Tanzania by our group that visited this past summer.

The items were distributed one afternoon. Listening through an interpreter, we heard Neema explain the couture. The women’s applause needed no translation. I was overwhelmed by their gratitude.

Sitting with the women in the village, Neema told us that it is often the big issues groups attempt to tackle. She was thankful for large gifts, but she said, “Sometimes it is the little things that make a huge difference.” (emphasis mine)

Thomas Friedman (he of The World is Flat fame), in a New York Times piece from 2007, says:

For decades, the world has asked: How do we free Africa from its yoke of poverty, disease and misgovernance? In asking Kenyans that question, I’ve been struck at the simple, common-sense solutions they offer. Four in particular stand out: transparency, telephones, Tergat and Kotex.

And in an article for The Huffington Post called “When a Period Ends More Than a Sentence” authors Elizabeth Scharpf and Rachel Kauder Nalebuff note:

Despite the fact that half the world menstruates, most people overlook the serious repercussions of a lack of affordable sanitary supplies in developing countries. The reason? Most people don’t know that it is a problem.

In the US, sanitary pads first became widespread in 1921, tampons in 1936. As a result girls and women had the opportunity to fully participate in school, sports, and the workforce. These products equaled freedom.

But in developing countries, periods continue to be a serious handicap. According to UNICEF, ten percent of school-age African girls miss school because of a lack of access to affordable sanitary products. In Rwanda, it’s much worse. According to on-the-ground research by Sustainable Health Enterprises (SHE), half the girls are missing school due to menstruation and the main reason given is that sanitary pads are too expensive. For women, 24% miss work–up to 45 days per year–for the same reason. This not only limits girls’ educational and women’s professional achievement, but leads to a significant economic loss for nations.

There are also serious health repercussions of not having pads. In Asia, many women still use rags; less fortunate ones use newspapers, banana leaves, even sand or ash. While rags were common before the pad was invented, the problem in developing countries is that often women don’t have access to clean water to wash them. And the taboo of menstruation means that many women cannot hang their rags to dry in the open. So, instead, they hide them in dark, damp places where no one will find them. As one might imagine, infections are rampant.

The first step is to destigmatize menstruation. Bringing periods into the open won’t be easy. The taboo of menstruation is embedded in our religions, culture, and history. The Quran declares that menstruating women “are a hurt and a pollution.” Indian women are exiled from their own homes. Orthodox Jewish women are forbidden to have sex. French housewives can’t make mayonnaise. In ancient Rome, Pliny the Elder wrote that contact with menstrual blood “turns new wine sour, crops touched by it become barren, grafts die, …, the edge of steel and the gleam of ivory are dulled.” Today, Pliny seems ridiculous, but discrimination and ignorance remain.

Because every 28 days, a girl’s life should not have to stop

by Stacy Feder

I got my period in my sister’s bed.

I don’t think I knew how to admit it, but I was terrified. Of everything. Growing up. Being responsible for my body’s changing. Myself changing. Being responsible in general. Keeping pads in my locker. How the hell to hide a tampon in your backpack? And spotting. Shit. Because that’s how it starts. With a spot. Usually a pretty big one in the belly of your underwear. Beet red and dry. Or fresh apple red if you’re lucky to catch it as it comes on. My mother was a big advocate of not wearing panties to bed. To give ourselves time to “air out.” Like leaving the car windows down in the driveway on a cool night. Like hanging the clothes on the line. So I didn’t catch my spot in my panties, but it happened in a swath of brick red across the back of my yellow and gray paint-splattered sleeping pants. In my sister’s bed. I found it in the morning. That was the first day of my yearlong cycle. Throughout the next two years of middle school, I only got my period two more times. I’m pretty sure I hated my period into oblivion. Read more…

I became acquainted with Red Tent Sisters on twitter, where most of my connections have been happening lately. (Twitter truly is a great way to find people who share your passions.) I love the vision they have for their work, and it made perfect sense to include them in the Best Blog Series Ever: Periods.

Now, I just need a reason to go to Toronto so I can stop and see them and their store! It sounds so nurturing — I think more cities need to have a sacred space like this for women to gather, share, and grow.

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Q. Let’s start with the name, are you really sisters? And how did your work together develop?

Yep – we’re flesh and blood sisters nearly six years apart in age. Our work together developed because I had breastfeeding problems after being put back on hormonal contraceptives when my daughter was a few months old. I put two and two together and figured out that the progesterone in the pill I was taking was causing my milk to come out too quickly and my daughter was choking on the milk. My sister passed on information about the Justisse Method of Fertility Management that she had picked up at a women’s studies conference out west. I started using fertility awareness and got hooked. I enrolled in a private training program through Justisse to become a fertility awareness instructor myself. My sister graduated from women’s studies and was trying to figure out what to do next. She was inspired by the store Venus Envy in Halifax and had a strong background in retail. I wanted to get my practice going teaching women about their menstrual cycles. We birthed the idea for this store (based on Anita Diamant’s novel, The Red Tent) in the fall of 2006. By August 2007 we had opened our doors!

Q. Your website says that you are a “pro-woman, pro-sex Toronto boutique and wellness centre”– can you tell me what you mean by “pro-woman” and “pro-sex”? Read more…

by Gloria Steinem
This piece originally appeared in Ms. magazine, October 1978.

Living in India made me understand that a white minority of the world has spent centuries conning us into thinking a white skin makes people superior, even though the only thing it really does is make them more subject to ultraviolet rays and wrinkles.

Reading Freud made me just as skeptical about penis envy. The power of giving birth makes “womb envy” more logical and an organ as external and unprotected as the penis makes men very vulnerable indeed.

But listening recently to a woman describe the unexpected arrival of her menstrual period (a red stain had spread on her dress as she argued heatedly on the public stage) still made me cringe with embarrassment. That is, until she explained that, when finally informed in whispers of the obvious event, she had said to the all-male audience, “and you should be proud to have a menstruating woman on your stage. It’s probably the first real thing that has happened to this group in years!”

Laughter. Relief. She had turned a negative into a positive. Somehow her story merged with India and Freud to make me finally understand the power of positive thinking. Whatever a “superior” group has will be used to justify its superiority, and whatever an “inferior” group has will be used to justify its plight. Black men were given poorly paid jobs because they were said to be “stronger” than white men, while all the women were relegated to poorly paid jobs because they were said to be “weaker”. As the little boy said when he asked if he wanted to be a lawyer like his mother, “Oh no, that’s women’s work.” Logic has nothing to do with oppression.

So what would happen if suddenly, magically, men could menstruate and women could not?

Clearly, menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event: Read more…

In a recent New York Times piece about Serena Williams’ endorsement deals, the deal that got the most ink was for Tampax, the Procter & Gamble tampon brand. It seems Serena is the first non-Olympian, and first certified mega-star, to sign on to endorse a ‘feminine care’ product.

I can imagine that of all the products stars are asked to endorse – shoes, watches, cars – tampons are not high on the list of enviable deals. So I am impressed that Serena has aligned herself with Tampax, especially considering that in 1995 the Women’s Tennis Association turned down a $10 Million offer by Tampax because of fears of becoming a laughing stock.

I think this story is hopeful, and it’s not because I think athletes should be getting paid millions of dollars to pose next to shoes, watches, cars, or tampons. But I do think that we may be moving away from the notion that our periods are something to be embarrassed about.

Considering half of the world’s population experiences menstruation on a monthly basis for half of their lifetimes, why is it still awkward to talk about?

Good on you, Serena! You can “set” an example that will “serve” us all well.
(sorry, you can groan now…)

What do you think?

One of my specialties is working with women who have dyspareunia (painful intercourse). In researching causes of vulvar pain, I have learned that the ‘feminine products’ we use every month are often irritating to the skin. In fact, this summer I was told by one of the country’s most well-known vulvar health experts that Always pads are particularly bad becauese the adhesive that is used to attach the pads to your underwear releases toxic fumes as it heats up from being so close to your body. And tampons can be just as problematic because the strings are treated with an anti-fungal that also causes irritation in some women.

It makes sense that putting chemicals so close to our bodies is bound to have detrimental consequences, especially for women who have sensitive skin. But before I could convincingly suggest it to my clients, I wanted to make the switch to reusable organic cotton pads myself. I know the idea of ‘re-using’ pads can seem off-putting, so I thought I should try it first, and I wanted to make sure the quality and design were going to appeal to women.

I bought a ‘starter pack’ from a seller on Etsy, which included a panty liner, a regular flow pad, a heavy flow pad, and an overnight pad. I have been really pleased with how comfortable and well-made the pads are. And it’s fun to pick out cute and colorful fabrics!

The ones pictured here are by tamarack.

If you think that pads or tampons may be irritating your skin, or if you want to save money and reduce waste, then I invite you to consider trying out cloth pads. You may even find that you really prefer them.

Anyone have other sources of where to get good chemical-free menstrual products?