Fun Factory Fun Cups promise so much, and I’ve read so many reviews by vagina owners who say that menstrual cups (of any kind) have made their lives easier. Apparently they’re supposed to save you both time and money? And be friendly to the environment, since you’re not tossing out pads/tampons? It sounds great!
But, disappointingly, I’ve turned to just not be a menstrual cup kinda person. I wanted to be excited about reviewing the Fun Cups—I was excited to try them out when I got them. But then…I spent three weeks of my life fishing around in my vagina, spending literally hours attempting to figure out whether or not the Fun Cup was securely suctioned to my cervix. Honestly, I still have no idea what this is supposed to feel like with the Fun Cups, size B.
Still, I do think the Fun Cups are a good product; it’s just that they absolutely don’t work for my anatomy. Let me tell you more about them and about what went wrong with me, so you can try to decipher whether they might actually work for you. (Or you can just get a healthy dose of Schadenfreude from reading about my troubles!)
Fun Factory Fun Cups are made of quality platinum silicone, so they’re completely sanitizable (like by boiling or by soaking in a 10%-bleach solution or hydrogen peroxide, which I hear is good for staining) and can be reused month after month. In theory, this means that you should save money on pads and tampons.
The Fun Cups come in two different sizes:
- Size A is slightly smaller and made of firmer silicone. Recommended for lighter bleeding, “beginners, people under 30, or folks with shorter vaginal canals.”
- Size B is a bit larger (for more blood) and softer. The specs say its better for heavier flows and “may be more effective for people older than 30 or who have given vaginal birth.”1
If you have no idea what you’re doing with menstrual cups or how heavy your flow is in comparison with others’, then the Explore Kit—containing both cup sizes—is the way to go. As the Fun Cup brochure says, “In the product testing phase, 80% of FUN CUP users reported using different sizes on different says of their cycle.”
This is where I go through all the claims that Fun Factory makes about the Fun Cups. I didn’t find any of them to be a big deal (my alien leaders must’ve not programmed me correctly before they sent me to Earth), but you may:
- Welcome to your new life. A life where you never have to put pants on and go to the drugstore at midnight because you’re out of tampons. I’m pretty anal about planning things in advance, so this has never happened to me.
- A life where you don’t ever wonder if there’s a string sticking out from under your bathing suit. I don’t actually go swimming much, but maybe this will be a concern when my kids start taking swim lessons and make me join a pool. The point made later in the booklet about pee on tampon strings sounds very valid. (I wouldn’t know, tampons rub me the wrong way. Which is probably part of my issue with menstrual cups—more on that later.)
- A life where you don’t have nightmares about using a bathroom with no wastebasket. What, really? I’ve never encountered one of those. Sucks that they exist somewhere, though.
- So: what are you going to do with all the extra time you’re not spending dealing with your period? Uh-oh. I have a lot to say about how time-consuming inserting a Fun Cup can be.
- What are you going to do with all the money you’re not throwing down on pads and tampons every month? Again, I hear that tampons are expensive, but I wouldn’t know, as a cheap-pad user. I’m pretty sure I spend three times more money on cookies than menstrual products every month, actually.
So yeah, in retrospect I’m not the target Fun Cup user. But wait, it gets worse!
When my Fun Cups (size B) arrived, I was slightly miffed that I had to wait a week to start testing them. They’re very attractive, really; they come in ultramarine blue and grape colors. Anyway, testing them out seemed like such an adventure. Oh, the dream of convenience!
I immediately started reading the Fun Cup booklet and learned that Fun Factory recommends “giving yourself at least two cycles to get used to using the FUN CUP.” Sure of myself, I thought that I would have no problem getting it all figured out in one cycle!
So inserting a Fun Cup requires you to fold the silicone in half, then reach up toward your cervix while bearing down (to lower the cervix), and to twist/spin the cup around. I guess this is supposed to create a seal? I can’t say anything about the size A cups (which are made of firmer silicone and apparently pop open more easily), but the size B cups are floppy enough that they just won’t pop open inside me. (At least when they’re near my cervix. They do open up easily below my pubic bone, like three inches away from where they’re supposed to be.)
I’ve never felt like my anatomy differed from apparently everyone else’s on the planet so much as when I spent half an hour digging around in my vagina attempting to get the Fun Cup to “suction.” The only thing I am sure I’ve ever gotten a Fun Cup to really suction onto is the upper back wall of my vagina—when the cup was upside down. (Don’t ask.) The process has been long and time-consuming for me, and though I will credit some accidental orgasms to it, it’s annoying. Hearing my kids bang on the bathroom door for five minutes2 while I’m trying to bunch my fingers together tight enough to figure out if the Fun Cup is close to my cervix is problematic, to say the least.
Once, during the second month I was trying to use the Fun Cups, I think I finally got a seal! I wore the cup for over twelve hours (but don’t be stupid like me, twelve hours is the absolute max you should wear without rinsing) and then managed to run around a playground after my kids, without leakage. I thought I’d finally figured it out!
Then the next day it kinda leaked again, and the day after that, I swear my cervix moved upward or something. By the fifth day of my cycle, I absolutely cannot get the Fun Cup far back enough to twist it around and create that seal.
Also, I find all this digging around painful on the bloodiest days of my period. Sure, I can withstand the pain, but why put myself through that? If you’re someone who actually enjoys period sex because of the greater sensitivity, then I doubt this will be an issue for you. I’ve realized that there’s a reason I don’t want anything near my vag for a good three days out of the month: it hurts. It’s a no-go zone.
All in all, here’s why I gave up on the Fun Cups by the beginning of my third period trying to use them.
Hello, I've finally given up on ever getting a menstrual cup inserted into my vagina properly (after three months of trying!) and am putting my time into something more enjoyable: eating lots of cookies. 😬😆😅
— Felicity (@PhallophileRev) December 20, 2017
First, my hand is too wide and/or my fingers are too short and/or my cervix is fairly high. Plus, my pubic bone really protrudes into my vag, and the Fun Cups’ contoured shape pokes into my frontal wall a bit on those occasions when I can manage to get the Fun Cup somewhere near my cervix. Maybe my cervix is angled weird? I dunno. Also, I think the second size (B) of the Fun Cups are too large for me, interestingly. (Which is weird because I have a fondness for large dildos.)
So yeah, I’d like to be ecologically friendly. I’d like to not have that crunch between my legs that even thinner pads bring. But I can’t get the Fun Cups to work with my anatomy, and using them eats up an extra half hour of each day I’m on my period (beyond what quickly changing pads would).
For that one glorious day of my cycle—when I managed to get the Fun Cup situated fairly easily and not ache horribly while doing so—wearing the Fun Cup did make me forget that I was on my period for the most part. If only the rest of my time with the Fun Cups was so easy!
Final Words: You Should Probably Read Someone Else’s Review Instead
I would really like to have had a positive personal experience with the Fun Factory Fun Cups. They’re amazing in theory: save money, waste less, don’t deal with a crunchy pad between your legs or a tampon string. The Fun Cups are made of high-quality silicone, and I’m sure lots and lots of time went into creating that cute, contoured design. But my vagina loathes these things. It just goes to show you how much anatomy (and sensitivity) varies from person to person.
If you, unlike me, know that you do find menstrual cups helpful, then you can check out the Fun Cups out here. Though my experience was largely negative, I think they’re worth a shot.
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- Emphasis added; I’m glad that Fun Factory has qualified so many of these statements—that is, has indicated that they’re not absolute rules—because yeah, I’m pretty sure I should’ve chosen the smaller one even though I am over thirty and have pushed a couple kids out.
- They’re nosy little bastards at this age.