|
|
T A B L E++T A L K
Did you have trouble potty training your kids? Share your tips and stories in Table Talk's Mother's area - - - - - - - - - - R E C E N T L Y
Thanksgiving
Turkey fry
Faraway, so close
"The Rugrats Movie"
Second Thoughts: A modest proposal BROWSE THE MOTHERS WHO THINK FEATURE ARCHIVES - - - - - - - - - -
Mamafesto
- - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - -
|
---------
A small, vocal group of women wants you to toss out your pads, tampons and liners and go -- no joke -- reusable. BY JENN SHREVE | The last thing most women want to think about during "that time of the month" is the harmful environmental impact of feminine hygiene products. Ditto on the widespread societal demonization of menstruation, the increasing distance between women and their natural body processes and the profit margins of tampon and maxi pad manufacturers. More likely, the onslaught of monthly menses is accompanied by thoughts of steamy bubble baths, large doses of chocolate, pain killers and catnaps. Yet a small, vocal group of women are taking up the cause of menstruation. More specifically, they're protesting the pink and blue rows of menstrual products available at your local pharmacy. In an odd meshing of environmental, health, feminist, New Age and anti-corporate activism, these women claim that feminine hygiene products not only harm the environment, but put women at an unnecessary risk for everything from toxic-shock syndrome to cancer. They are calling on women not only to reconsider their attitudes toward the "curse," but to toss out their boxes of pads, tampons and liners, and go -- no joke -- reusable. As in reusable tampons such as the Keeper and the Sponge, both of which collect menstrual blood and can be emptied and used again. These women also promote washable cotton pads, attached to underwear by either an old-fashioned belt or a snap-on fastener. Sound gross? Perhaps. But the women who use these nondisposable menstrual products swear that once you make the switch you'll never go back to disposable again. Lorie Kellogg, a graphic designer from Los Angeles, is one such convert. She started using the Keeper a year ago after reading about it on a Web page for environmental activists. Kellogg says she was tired of shelling out $5 or $10 a month on disposables and worried about the environmental impact of tossing out hundreds of applicators and packaging each year. The Keeper, which for a onetime payment of $40 lasts up to 10 years, seemed a financially sound and socially responsible choice. But, Kellogg adds, there was a hidden bonus. "It's very convenient. You don't have to worry about packing supplies with you. Once you have it with you, you just empty it out and keep using it." Francine Chambers saw an advertisement for the Keeper five years ago and decided to give it a try. She was so impressed, she bought the business and has been running it full time from her home in Ontario, Canada. "I'd been using those other products and I hated them every time," Chambers says. "When you use pads and tampons, you're sitting right in those icky pads. That's why they smell so bad. They are expensive and they chafe. You get sore." Chambers says she was also bothered by the environmental impact of disposable products and worried by the bleaches used in most feminine hygiene products. But as she describes her product there's a hint of religious fervor in her voice that goes beyond the average endorsement. "It's a lifesaver," she says. "Once women try it they are in awe of it just like I am ... It's fantastic. I've got so many testimonials." Perhaps calling the Keeper a "lifesaver" is taking things too far, but it is reasonable to say that it saves money, reduces landfill and, if lugging around a few tampons is a bother, is more convenient -- because you basically tote the Keeper inside you. Also in its favor, the Keeper is no more messy to use than tampons, which must be changed more regularly and can require a panty-liner as backup. (Although some women still use the Sponge, problems with blood squirting out of it made it unpopular.) But why would anyone choose reusable pads, when you have to soak and wash them before you can reuse them? For Susanna Eve, a member of Moonwit, a collective of women in Canada who make and sell reusable cloth menstrual pads, her motivation to go reusable was more than environmental and financial, though both figured in her decision. The pads are generally made from washable cotton and terry cloth and are attached either by snaps or a belt. They cost around $7 a piece, depending on where you purchase them, and Eve recommends having about a dozen on hand. Unlike store-bought pads, these come in a variety of patterns -- from flowers to zebra stripes to blood red. Eve calls her pads "menstrual lingerie" and compares them to clothing items. "Why shouldn't it be fun and pretty?" N E X T_ P A G E: Playing with your blood |
Arts & Entertainment | Books | Comics | Life | News | People
Politics | Sex | Tech & Business | Audio
The Free Software Project | The Movie Page
Letters | Columnists | Salon Plus
Copyright © 2000 Salon.com All rights reserved.