I don’t know why I was so engrossed by this woman feeding her child. We were in a room full of mothers and kids; it wasn’t like it was on the E train. My left-brain was telling me “oh that’s nice” and my right brain was looking for a nursing cover to drape over her. Part of me was like “Whoa! That’s a boob”. I wasn’t appalled or uncomfortable I think I was just shocked that there was a boobie in the middle of the playroom.
What’s wrong with me? Why did I react like a 13-year-old boy seeing his first A-cup? I mean I have my own boobs and I nursed Ali. I wish I had the balls to pop out a nip and just go for it. It’s kind of sad that I’m still shocked by breasts and nursing. People don’t even like to call it “breast feeding” they call it “nursing”. It’s so strange that we celebrate boobs in the their form at restaurants like Hooters and the glorified strip club The Tilted Kilt. (Hell I get my fair share of boob watchers at my restaurant. I respond with dagger eyes that will put the fear of god in him) But the boob’s function is shunned into the corner suffocating itself under an unbearably hot nursing cover. I think we need to take back the boobs!
I can’t lie nursing is pretty difficult, not to mention tiring and it hurts. It’s easy to throw in the towel and go with the bottle. I ultimately stopped nursing because I thought it was inconvenient. Truth is going from having no kid to taking care of a newborn is what’s inconvenient, not nursing. Trust me sitting in a public bathroom with a screaming baby while trying to heat up formula under a hot tap (that is more lukewarm) is much more inconvenient. Maybe if it was cool to breast feed in the middle of the mall I would have lasted a little longer. I think we should pitch a show to Bravo called the Real Breast Feeding Housewives of New York. If I see more breast feeding regularly in classes and on TV I wont freak out next time I see a boob whipped out in my face.
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(No, it’s not a picture of my boobs)