When I was pregnant I didn't think I could feel more like a cow. I was wrong. Know why? Because when I was still pregnant I wasn't being milked like a cow.
Now, of course, I am.
I don't begrudge my child his need to eat. That's fine with me. I'm happy to help. But the truth is, my boobs have taken on a life of their own. Since I started pumping it's been even crazier - I'm producing double what I was before. This is both good and bad. Good because I'm creating a stockpile of milk so the Android can take the wheel (or nipple, as it were) on occasion. Bad because if I miss a feeding by more than a minute, I spring a leak. I don't like being soggy.
Wanna know what an engorged breast feels like? Okay. Take a balloon. Fill it halfway with pebbles - all about the size of a half dollar. Then, fill the balloon with warm tapioca pudding until it's about to burst. You think I'm kidding? Try it. I dare ya.
I'll admit pumping is now a bit of a game for me. I like to guess how much I can get in one session (Most - 4oz. Least, 1/4 oz). Shut up. I'm weird.
The New PostSecret Book
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