09.13.2016
women

I Treated My Period With THC Tampons Then Treated My Pussy to THC Lube

A comprehensive review of getting your pussy stoned.

I woke up this morning covered in blood, half expecting Benson and Stabler to walk in. It was like a fucking crime scene on my sheets. So, naturally, I snapped a pic of my bloody ass for Instagram, because nothing says “Feminism is cool” like stained panties, and headed straight out for the weed store. I hit up my local female run haunt, California Caregivers Alliance, and picked up every product that gets your pussy high.

What’s on the menu, you ask? The newly released Whoopi & Maya (WM) line of rubs, scrubs and bath oils, designed specifically for all your lady troubles. Also the much lauded Foria THC-based lube and their newer product…the highly anticipated weed tampon. I’m pretty fucking excited about this assignment.


The Whoopi + Maya Balm

I decide to begin my vagina voyage with the WM topical cream and build my way up to a bloody stoned-pussy sexperience. Even though all the WM products are only supposed to be for cramps/pms, their branding speaks sex. The kind of packaging one would expect from an off-brand lingerie store in the mall. This topical cream is actually called “RUB.” At what point did we decide that putting a period in the name of a product gave it more legitimacy?

It feels smooth and slick like coconut oil and smells like a white girl with dreads. Sadly I was kind of into it.

It feels smooth and slick like coconut oil and smells like a white girl with dreads. Sadly I was kind of into it. I slathered it all over my stomach, and lower back...ya know those areas that act up when Aunt Flo is tap dancing on your uterus. Currently my ovaries feel like two throbbing hot balls of lead trying to escape my weakened body. So probably an 8 on the period scale of hellish pain. It’s no UTI (urinary tract infection), but it’s not a walk in the park.

So I spread it all over myself and pulled back up my giant, tan, tummy covering, super stretchy undies. Which are now moist from both my bloody vagina and from this oily balm...excellent. This, ladies, is how you catch a man! 

After a few hours, I’ve concluded that the balm works...kind of. It’s tingly sensation is pleasing, I’m far less achy, and my cramps have definitely lessened. But you know how when you’re on your period you are suddenly acutely aware of every crevice of your vagina? How you can actually feel the blood pump through the interior walls of your vag? Well, it doesn’t do anything for that. It’s topical, so while, yes, I feel relief of my muscle pain, and I’m far less aware of my ovaries, that inner wall throbbing is still fuckin’ kicking.

I’m tempted to skip ahead and shove a Foria tampon up there. But for the sake of research, I shall endure the wall-throb, keep the experiments controlled and the products separate. You and your vagina are welcome. For now I’ll just smoke this complimentary joint and get so blazed that the internal pain is numbed.

The verdict on the Whoopie balm, RUB.? I’ll definitely use it again, but only in combination with actual weed or with some kind of internal relief stimulant. That said, I’d totally use this for regular aches and pains because from a muscle-relief standpoint it works like a charm.


The Foria Relief Tampon

7:43 pm The balm has definitely worn off at this point, but alas my cramps have not. I just inserted my first Foria tampon, and I'm eagerly anticipating life-changing pain relief. As I lay here, naked from the waist down, with my ass propped up on a paper towel covered pillow, waiting for the CBD cocoa butter to dissolve, I have a moment to mull over the joys of womanhood.

Being forced to live in a patriarchal world that dismisses period symptoms as only minor inconveniences has taught women a level of toughness, a level of resilience than many men will never know. 

We're so #blessed to experience this kind of immense pain with every cycle of the moon. You have every reason to assume I'm being facetious, but I'm actually quite serious. I think being forced to live in a patriarchal world that dismisses period symptoms as only minor inconveniences has taught women a level of toughness, a level of resilience than many men will never know. Since adolescence (or 17 if you are a late-blooming freak like me), we have had to endure this pain in relative silence. The world dismisses it as trivial. We are taught not to discuss it; to feel shame about our periods and hide their existence from the men in our lives. This recurrent exercise in personal stealth fortifies a person in immeasurable ways. So thank you patriarchy for toughening us up. It's only making it that much easier for us to smash you now.

The instructions say it takes 20 to 30 minutes to feel the effects. An hour in, I barely felt a thing. This could have been due to user incompetence. You are instructed to eat a healthy, hearty meal prior to insertion. To the period monster within me, that meant a McDonalds milkshake and French fries. Maybe all the processed sugars slowed down the process. I regret nothing.

At first, I thought it wasn’t working at all but just like an edible, the Foria Relief slowly creeps up on you until, bam! Period pain gone, and I do mean GONE! Obliterated. I’m almost numb down there, that’s how little pain I feel, especially after taking a steamy shower. It’s like my uterus doesn’t even know it’s hemorrhaging right now. This is fucking luxury.

I decide to harness the awesomeness I feel and pre-schedule a low-flow day 4 sexcapade with a dude I’ve known for a while. I’m gonna be real with you. He’s my ex-drug dealer from my party girl days. I may be a semi-grown-up, mostly drug-free feminist now, but the disco baby inside me still has a total lady boner for this leather-clad lothario. Plus, he eats pussy like a fuckin champ and definitely wouldn't be put off by a little blood.

Working all day on my period, on a Saturday, isn't my idea of a bitchin’ time. But mama is a hustler.

Day 2: Woke up to full retching abdominal pain and a pounding headache from too much rosé. That’s the other plight of the period: Extreme sensitivity to alcohol. I had maybe three glasses of wine last night, but I feel like I took two bottles to the face. Reached straight for my WM balm since my muscles feel as if they’ve atrophied overnight. Then, because I’m a stoned idiot, I applied some moisturizer to my face and tossed on some eye cream without washing my hands. Now I sit here typing, somewhat concerned that in about 20 minutes my eyes are going to be stoned. Pray for me. I’m gonna put on some angry girl rock and get to work. No rest for my bleeding ass today.

Working all day on my period, on a Saturday, isn't my idea of a bitchin’ time. But mama is a hustler. Plus my friend is curating a cunnilingus-themed group art show tonight. Naturally I wormed my way into it and am having a pop-up shop of my Kidd Bell store at the event. 

After hawking cunt-themed merch to L.A.'s most labia-obsessed art kids and handing out branded condoms, I was feeling pretty sexy. Weed palpably pumping through my pussy, I hopped a cab to a Prince-themed night at Ham & Eggs downtown. Boogied with my bestie all night, dodged some guys who thought we were in costumes (no sir, this is just how we dress), and only thought about the flushing of my uterine walls when my tampon became noticeably wet inside me.

Thank you, Foria. You've made me, a mid-menstruating woman forget the fact that I'm basically bleeding out on the dance floor. The combo pack of the Foria weed suppository and the Whoopi balm is period magic. I'm wearing a tight mini dress, and I'm not even mad about it. It's a modern day miracle.


The Whoopi Bath Soak

Day 3: You know when the worst time to have your photo taken is...when you're heavily on the rag, bloated AF, breaking out like a pepperoni pizza and just as shiny too. But because I'm an excellent planner, obviously my morning today will be spent getting my face snapped for Funny Chicks of L.A.’s next coffee table book. Not only do I have to be pretty, but now I have to be funny too. I wasted no time and popped a Foria tampon up there immediately upon waking up and attempted to get my ass camera ready.

For someone who puts a lot of photos of their self on the Internet, I absolutely hate having my picture taken. So after hours of shooting with a bloody numb vagina, I was ready to lay the fuck down and die. Figured a relaxing weed bath would be the next best thing. So I tossed on a Sadé record, threw the blinds closed, and drew myself a bubble bath.

Power and props to all my sex workers out there by the way, that’s a damn tough job, and you deserve equal rights and a higher level of safety. 

The instructions for the Whoopi & Maya soak. (period added by manufacturer) are intense. You’re supposed to use the entire jug of oil. They even instruct you to dip the empty container into the water to ensure you get all the product into your bath. Damn, Whoopi, concentrate that shit! I assumed this massive tub of bath oil would at least get me through a whole cycle. Apparently it’s a one and done kind of deal (much like my dating life).

Similar to all the other Whoopi products, the scent is powerful but intoxicating. There were two options to choose from, lavender and amber moon. I opted for the latter because it sounded too period perfect to pass up. That’s what I’m going to start calling my bleed now...the amber moon. 

I might not agree with all (most) of Whoopi Goldberg’s opinions... Jesus, have you watched her on The View? But dang this bitch can make bath bomb. This shit is relaxing AF. All my aches and pains have been eradicated, bye cramps...see you never (or at least not for another four weeks). This is even better than the Foria tampon/Whoopi balm combo. I feel no period pain whatsoever. My skin is supple and soft without feeling oily, like it does after many bathtub treatments. Whoopi & Maya soak. is definitely a new staple for my period routine.


The Foria Pleasure THC Lube

Day 4: Tonight's the night, kids. I’m only minorly bloody, fully primped, and ready for a stoned-pussy sexperience. My cunnilingus co-conspirator, classy gent that he is, requested I bring a bottle of something Chilean or Argentine over to help ease us into the experiment. I figured it was the least I could do since I’m technically getting paid to fuck him tonight. Does this make me a sex worker? Power and props to all my sex workers out there by the way, that’s a damn tough job, and you deserve equal rights and a higher level of safety. Hopefully our puritanical society will catch on to this soon and realize you are no more selling your bodies than coal miners or concussed football players, but I digress.

Foria Pleasure spray bottle in hand, I headed out in my best slut outfit...i.e. a pink crop top that says “You’re Disgusting,” a leather skirt, and my best cowgirl boots. Seemed apropos.

Once fully fucking, I think I just blacked out and became an orgasm machine...it was like one long wave of pleasure. 

Obviously, leather daddy wasn't quite ready for me when I arrived; so here I am snuggling with his pup on the couch and spraying my pussy with this weed lube. But they don't tell you how much to use; sooo I ended up spraying about half of the bottle up my snatch while he showered in the other room. Really get it in there guys, your clit, inner labia, outer labia, even right up the money hole—go for it.

After a riveting discussion about what qualifies someone as a fuckboy and how it's different than a slut (a fuckboy is promiscuous but lacks respect for those they bang), we’ve decided we are both just sluts and clinked our glasses of Malbec in celebration.


Apparently our fuckboy chatter went on for about an hour too long, and a lot of the weed lube wore off. My vagina was tangibly tingling the entire time. Hoo-rah. So for the sake of research, I had him kneel down and respray my lady bits which quickly catapulted us from a casual hang on the couch to a pretty immediate full fledged fuck fest. He's lying here, tonguing me, angry at my distracted ass, while I type this on my phone.

HO-LY SHIT this stuff is magic. I can feel every part of my pussy in immense clarity. Much like lube, the Foria medicated goo is slick and wet. Unlike lube, it has heightened my sensitivity to a level of pleasure so intense it’s almost uncomfortable. That, coupled with this mouth vibrating thing leather man does that I had previously thought the exclusive domain of lesbians and battery-powered toys, is making this one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life. Pretty much the only instructions given with this tiny spray bottle are that it’s not to be used with a latex. Homeboy is allergic; so he already has latex free condoms at the ready.

Once fully fucking, I think I just blacked out and became an orgasm machine...it was like one long wave of pleasure. Each orgasm indistinguishable from the one that came before. I came so hard, I legit clawed a chunk out of his tattoo-covered back. He started bleeding; I think it may have freaked him out a little.

As for the sex, we kept having to stop because my vagina was getting overwhelmed. So the verdict on this one? Go out and buy it right fucking now—but bear in mind that it’s not for the faint of heart or for the everyday bang. This is professional-grade shit. Gird your loins, kids.

I’m so thankful that the earth has been blessed with this most magical plant. Bummer it took us this long to figure out how to jam it up our twats, but I’m glad I got to experience it. 

All photos curtsey of Shop Kiddbell and Whitney's Instagram.

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