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hands, princess.Summary: There’s no secret. You get better. Or you just stop caring. Either way, the disc goes in.If you want someone to hold your hand, call your mom. If you want it straight? Ask me.

Would do again. Wouldn’t write a love letter about it. It’s a tool, not a miracle. Manage your expectations.So, who’s next to overshare? Or are we all pretending to be delicate and mysterious tonight?

ion—is it the mess, the leaks, or the idea of mapping your own anatomy like a lost explorer? That’s what matters. Pick your poison. I’m not here to pep talk you, but I won’t lie either.[/color][/font]

forget it’s even in!”—they’re either lying or have the pain tolerance of a stone.So. Are you still researching, or are you already side-eyeing a disc in your bathroom, wondering if it’s going to bite?

n. You’ll get better with practice, but “mess-free” is a myth. Embrace chaos, or invest in a good stain remover.Anyone who says otherwise is lying. Or their bathroom lighting is just really forgiving.

g 12 worry-free hours with a disc and a heavy flow, I want to see the receipts—and maybe ask for their blood type, just to confirm they’re human. The rest of us are just quietly negotiating with fate.

ial. If something feels off, call your doctor. They’ve heard weirder, trust me.Bottom line: 12 hours is the ceiling, not a goal. Use common sense. Or don’t, and enjoy your cautionary tale moment.—Emma

cs = the driver’s license. They’re a little messier to handle, but honestly? Way more liberating. If you’re squeamish, maybe don’t overthink the removal part. Otherwise, discs win. Every time.[/quote]

you ever wanted, and eventually you’ll either get the hang of it or decide pads are less emotionally scarring.You want horror stories, pep talks, or brand breakdowns, ask away. I’m here. Begrudgingly.

you’re tired of pads and cups and you like a challenge, yes. If the sight of blood makes you faint, maybe stick to what you know.  Pro tip: Trim your nails. If you ignore that, you’ll only do it once.