Note to all my readers without vaginas: we are about to talk about periods. And blood. And bloody periods. And what to do about them if you happen to be having one when you want to have some playtime. So, you might want to skip this one if you don’t want to know about these things.

Now, on with the post…

It all started with a visit to a new gynecologist for a long-overdue PAP smear. She was an itsy bitsy woman. A midwife. Not a scary bone in her body. But when she found out that I, at 50, had an IUD, and had no idea whether or not I was still capable of having regular periods, I swear to you, Internet, she grew about 30 feet.

“Don’t you want to know where you are on your menopause journey?” she asked.

The answer was no. No, I didn’t. Did I?

“But you don’t know! You might be done with them! You might not even need an IUD anymore!”

It sounded perfectly reasonable when she put it that way.

She went on with her spiel, and before long I was wavering. I should mention that while, in my professional life, I can go toe-to-toe with a badass motherfucker and not blink, put me in a medical gown and my ability to stand up for myself trickles down to almost nothing.

You see where this is going, don’t you? Thirty minutes later, I walked out of there one IUD lighter, on my way to discovering that full-on menopause is still distressingly far away.

Fast forward a couple of months. It was a Thursday evening, approximately 16 hours before we were supposed to leave for a hotel takeover, when all of a sudden I felt The Gush. I ran to the bathroom, praying I was wrong, but I wasn’t. The gods had gifted me with proof that, once again, I was not pregnant. Yay?

This could have been a tragedy. A fun-killer before any fun had even thought about happening.

But I have a teenage daughter. One who knows what’s what. And she had recently discovered menstrual discs. Not cups, which are annoyingly big when you’re a short woman. Discs, which tuck handily behind your pubic bone and keep the annoying red mess from interfering with… fun.

So I decided to give them a try.

Turns out menstrual discs aren’t quite as easy to work with as they make it sound.

First, you’ve got to get them in exactly the right place. And I mean exactly. If you don’t, they’ll keep you safe for a bit before suddenly “dumping,” meaning you end up fleeing the breakfast buffet in your tiny pajamas, trying to make it up the elevator and back to your room before blood starts pouring down your legs.

Or so I hear, anyway.

Also, to get them out, you have to bear down like you’re pooping and pull with all your might. Something I learned only after almost having a panic attack when I couldn’t dislodge mine.

And, of course, you have to be comfortable sticking your fingers all the way up to, well, your pubic bone. Which I’m guessing most of us involved in these sorts of extracurricular activities are okay with, but it’s worth noting.

All that aside, though? These menstrual disc things are the holy grail of menstrual products. You can’t feel them when they’re correctly positioned. Like at all. And as far as their performance during play? Well, we participated in an orgy, Internet.

Granted, we’re still doing soft swap, so there weren’t a bunch of actual penises in there, but there was plenty of action happening. And things stayed blood-free. So I’m counting that as a serious win.

Of course, you’ll want to take a few precautions if you decide to try a menstrual disc during a play party. Before it begins, put a fresh one in. And then take a shower. Bonus points if it’s got one of those removable wands so you can really target the area. And let your partner(s) know. Just in case someone is squeamish.

After that you’re golden. Or at least, with any luck at all, blood-free. And that’s good enough for me (I’m still getting another IUD though).