It Started With Period Products

It Started with Period Products

My health journey is a long story, but I'll try to keep it short. No promises, though, because apparently I can't research one thing without accidentally finding seventeen other things I need to look into.

I was never really taught proper hygiene growing up. There were a number of reasons for that, one of them being the shame I learned to associate with being a girl. There was also this misguided idea of protection in not being seen as attractive. If I wasn't drawing attention to myself, if I wasn't making myself noticeable in that way, then maybe I could avoid certain things altogether.

Looking back, I think that affected how I learned to care for myself. A lot of what I know about health and hygiene, I learned from the internet. Around the time I was going into college, I slowly started taking that education into my own hands. I began researching, asking questions, and trying to understand things I felt like I probably should have known already.

And honestly, there's something a little frustrating about having to teach yourself things you wish someone had taught you in the first place. But that's where I was, and I had a lot to learn.

I started with period products.

For most of my life, I was a Tampax girl. It was familiar, accessible, and what I knew. I didn't really question it much. Then, one night, I decided to try period underwear.

I grabbed a pair of THINX bikini underwear on a whim, and honestly? I loved them.

Key word: loved.

Because after about four washes, things went downhill. They didn't dry well, and they started ballooning. And when I say ballooning, I mean they were not exactly giving what they were supposed to give.

I bought another pair because I thought, okay, maybe I just got a bad one. Surely the second pair would be different, right?

Nope.

Same problem. Eventually, I gave up on them.

Which was disappointing because I really did like the idea of period underwear. I wanted something comfortable, practical, and reusable. I just also wanted it to work. You know, the bare minimum.

That experience was one of my first lessons in the difference between liking a product in theory and actually being able to rely on it. A product can sound great, look great, and have all the right selling points, but if it doesn't work for you, what are we even doing here?

My next switch was to a menstrual disc.

I settled on Flex discs and used them for the better part of a year and a half. The biggest adjustment was the cleaning. At first, having to clean and boil my disc on the stove felt like a bit of a nuisance. It was one of those things I had to convince myself was worth the extra effort.

Eventually, it became routine. It wasn't a big deal anymore.

Then I learned about steam cleaners designed for menstrual cups and discs. Oh, perfect! A potentially easier way to do this? Sign me up.

Except the first one I ordered arrived broken.

Of course it did.

After dealing with the return process, I went right back to boiling water on the stove. Sometimes the simpler option really is the better option, even if it isn't the one you originally wanted.

Not particularly exciting, but it worked.

By this point, I'd spent quite a bit of time researching period products and trying to make choices I felt were better for me. I'd tried a few things, figured out what worked, and started getting more comfortable asking questions.

But I still wanted to know how much of what I was reading online was actually true.

So, naturally, I brought it up with my primary care doctor.

I told her about the changes I'd made, the research I'd been doing, and the questions I still had. More or less, I wanted her to tell me whether what I'd been reading was bullshit or whether there was actually something to it.

Because let's be honest, the internet can be a wonderful place to learn, but it can also send you spiraling. One person says something is dangerous, another person says it's completely fine, and suddenly you're sitting there wondering what you're even supposed to believe.

I didn't want to blindly believe everything I found online. I wanted someone with medical training to help me separate reasonable concerns from misinformation.

She supported my decision to use a reusable menstrual product made from 100% medical-grade silicone. She also recommended cotton underwear, explaining that cotton was what she personally preferred to wear. She even offered to refer me to a gynecologist if I wanted one.

I declined for the moment.

Not because I was against the idea, but because I wanted to keep researching and come back with questions of my own. That's generally how I prefer to approach these things. Let me do some reading, figure out what I don't understand, and then ask someone qualified to help me make sense of it.

I don't need to know everything before I walk into a doctor's office. I just like having some idea of what I want to ask.

So, naturally, I went looking for cotton underwear.

My initial approach was pretty simple: find the cheapest cotton option I could, buy it, and move on. I found an option that worked well enough, and for a while, I was perfectly content with it.

It was affordable. It did the job. I didn't have any particular reason to replace it.

And that's an important part of this story because I wasn't sitting around hating my underwear or desperately searching for something better. I'd found something that worked for me, and that was enough. Why spend more money just for the sake of it?

At the time, my interest was still primarily in period products and personal hygiene. I wasn't conducting some grand investigation into everything I owned, and I certainly wasn't planning to turn every shopping trip into a research assignment.

Although, looking back, I can see the beginnings of a habit.

As I went through university, I would occasionally find myself looking into other products, materials, and things related to personal care. I'd come across something interesting, read a little about it, and sometimes end up exploring a subject further than I originally intended. Fabrics were one of those occasional interests, but they weren't yet the subject of my attention in the way period products had been.

What stayed with me was the curiosity.

I had started asking questions about the things I used regularly. What was I buying? What was it made from? Were the claims I was reading actually supported by anything? Was there a reason to make a different choice, or was I being convinced that I needed something new?

Those questions didn't always have immediate answers. Sometimes I found useful information. Other times, I found myself going in circles, trying to work out which sources were worth trusting.

I was learning that researching something and understanding it aren't necessarily the same thing.

You can open an article, find a study, read a few opinions, and still walk away unsure of what to believe. A product might be marketed as a healthier alternative, but what does that actually mean? Is there evidence behind the claim? Is it relevant to the product itself? And is the information coming from someone qualified to speak about it?

I didn't want to become someone who read one alarming headline and immediately assumed the worst. At the same time, I didn't want to dismiss every concern simply because it was inconvenient to investigate.

I wanted to understand enough to make reasonable decisions.

And that, more than any particular product, was what I started taking away from the experience.

I also began to realize that being informed doesn't mean having to replace everything you own. Finding an alternative doesn't automatically make your existing products bad, and buying something more expensive doesn't necessarily mean you're making a better choice.

Sometimes the product you already have works perfectly well. Sometimes a supposedly better alternative turns out to be disappointing. Sometimes you discover something that genuinely makes your life easier.

The important part is being able to make that decision without feeling like you have to follow every new trend or marketing claim.

I still have a budget, after all. A very real one.

I can't afford to replace everything I own just because I learn about another product or material. And honestly, I don't think that would be a particularly thoughtful way to approach a more intentional lifestyle anyway. I'd rather use what I have, learn as I go, and make more informed decisions when it's time to buy something new.

Over time, my curiosity started expanding beyond the original questions that sent me down this path. I became more interested in the products I use, the habits I build, how I care for myself, and the everyday decisions I make without always thinking about them.

That includes personal care, health and well-being, self-regulation, the materials in the things I buy, and eventually, the wider questions surrounding ethical and sustainable shopping.

I don't have all of those answers. I'm still learning what matters, what is worth looking into, and what actually makes a difference in everyday life.

But I want to document that process.

I want to write about the things I research, the products I try, what works, what doesn't, and what I think is worth the money. I want to look beyond marketing claims, understand the information available, and share what I find in a way that might help someone else who is just beginning to ask similar questions.

And I want to be honest about the parts I'm still figuring out.

This isn't a guide to living a perfectly healthy, perfectly ethical, or perfectly intentional life. I'm not an expert, and I'm certainly not interested in making anyone feel like they need to buy their way into a better version of themselves.

I'm just someone who started asking questions about period products and found herself becoming increasingly curious about the choices she makes every day.

I don't want every purchase to become a research project, and I don't want fear making my decisions for me. I want to learn, make reasonable choices within my budget, and become a little more thoughtful about the way I live.

Maybe I'll discover products I absolutely love. Maybe I'll spend money on something that turns out not to be worth it. Maybe I'll find that some of the things I've read aren't as straightforward as they first seemed.

That's part of the process, too.

I'm not trying to get everything right.

I'm just trying to get a little more informed, one decision at a time.

And if you're curious about any of this, or if you've already gone down a few of these rabbit holes yourself, you're welcome to follow along.

Welcome to The Considered Life.