Eco-living: Period drama

I'M GOING to give you the answers, and you've got to guess the question. I think this may be the format of a quiz show; if not, remind me to pitch it to the next TV exec that passes my way. The answers: cosmetics; clothes, shoes and handbags; babies; menstruation. The question, of course, is: in what ways do women do more environmental damage than men?

I have now decided to disallow babies, realising that although women do all the carrying and squeezing out, it's really a joint responsibility. Moving on, we could argue that the feminine prerogative of buying endless lipsticks in virtually the same shade and owning six pairs of jeans (different cuts for different occasions) is offset by men's likelihood of owning more gadgets, tools, cars and golf clubs. Until someone does a conclusive study into the gender-specific carbon footprints of consumerism, I'm declaring this one too close to call.

Which leaves us with just one topic left on the list. I dare you to look up menstruation in the dictionary. Prepare yourself, because it's quite gruesome. The fact that I'm grossed out is a sad sign of how this most natural of processes has become woefully stigmatised. No wonder sanitary-towel manufacturers use blue liquid in their adverts instead of something more realistic. And it's these manufacturers who are in for a rollicking, not only because of their lack of gumption in showing blood and gore, but because of their part in creating a waste mountain than won't be decomposing any time soon.

First, some stats. According to the Women's Environmental Network's splendidly titled Seeing Red report, in the UK we buy more than three billion disposable sanpro (it's catchier than sanitary protection) items every year. In 2001 we spent 370 million on them. The average woman gets through 12,000 sanpro goodies in her lifetime, with over 12 billion being sold worldwide every year. And where do all these tampons, sanitary towels and panty liners end up? Incinerated, in landfill or, worse still, floating out at sea. Plastic bags are bad enough, but really, who wants to think of a whale choking on these items?

Bag it and bin it, ladies, or better still, buy a Mooncup. At first glance, the notion of a menstrual cup filled me with horror. Then I started thinking about the cost savings. The first version was developed in the 1930s by an American actress called Leona Chalmers. Unfortunately for Leona, tampons were introduced at the same time and manufacturers, giddy at creating something that women would purchase without fail every month, went all out on the advertising. The reuseable menstrual cup faded into obscurity, until the 1980s, when it began its revival among those looking for a more eco-friendly way of dealing with their periods.

What's so bad about the disposable alternatives? We've already discussed the waste angle, but there's pesticide use issues from cotton growing, and pollution and health concerns about the bleaching of wood pulp used in sanpro products. And lots of today's ultra-thin products use plastics (with a shelf life of several hundred years) rather than natural materials. If the Mooncup sounds too daring, alternatives include organic cotton towels and tampons or washable cotton pads (a new take on ye olde solution).

Now that wasn't so embarrassing, was it? We're big boys and girls and if we're going to save the planet we need to talk about cellular debris instead of pretending it's blue and that it's okay for it to live happily ever after in a super-absorbent core.

• This article was first published in Scotland on Sunday, March 7, 2010