I realised a couple of months ago that pregnancy and childbirth had killed off all sense of shame when I found myself standing half naked in the nurses office at my doctors surgery, having an accidental game of hot potato with my diaghram as we both howled with laughter. I’d gone there for a demonstration on how to use it and as she explained how to apply spermicidal cream and insert it (yeah I apologise if you’re eating whilst reading this), I felt myself grow hot and queasy, as it all seemed so complex. “You’ll have to try putting it in yourself and then I’ll check to see if you have it in correctly” she said and catching my panic stricken face she added “Sorry, you have to. I won’t be at your house to come and help you when you want to have sex….” That’s a shame….I thought….

Slippery little suckers doesn’t even begin to describe these cap things that are supposed to stop you from creating babies. Trust me…the palaver of trying to put the thing in is contraception in itself…. As I tried to hold onto it with fierce concentration, it shot across the room as if it had been launched by a canon…

Read the original post in full over at Dollymix