Breastfeeding in Public

Co-blogging with Jillian, Vol. 1, Issue 1.

Read Jillian's opinion over at And Other Times?.

Let me state at the outset:

1. I have nothing against boobs. In fact, I am probably more interested in breasts than most women, being that I have none of my own and often wonder what it would be like to actually show some blips on the boobie radar.

2. I have nothing against breastfeeding. There is enough conclusive, solid evidence out there that breastfeeding is best for your larvae child. Breastfeeding passes on immunities, has tons of all the right fats and vitamins and whatnot, is great in coffee, and hey, it makes your boobs bigger and helps you lose weight. If I do decide to spawn, I'm sure my children will have to be on the teat for like a year, since my allergies are terrible, and breastfeeding is a great way to help protect your kid against that.

3. I have nothing against the public. I like the public. It's out there. And often, people are in it. The public is a great way to share ideas (theatre), find something to do (advertising), and serves as an arena to observe humanity in all its glory.

Insert giant caps HOWEVER here.

I have a problem with public breastfeeding. Well, not a PROBLEM, problem. I am fine with public breastfeeding as long as it's private, i.e., please cover your ravenous child and your giant, swollen boob with a blanket. They've even invented reverse super hero capes (in trendy patterns!) to cover alladat.

Exhibit A:

Look! You can see the feet! And Mommy gets to look like an amputee, which is always cool!

Exhibit B:

OOoo! This one has a hole! This cape is super awesome, because it will give you a glimpse of just what it would be like to put your precious little one in an actual hole, maybe around the age of fourteen when "No one understands me or my music!" becomes his favorite phrase.

Why would you even want to do all that in the open? I mean, you know people are going to look, right? They're going to be looking at your breast, and that is all they will see. A breast. Not a "kid eating." BOOB. I guess with the capes the kid gets hot and you don't want Skippy to sweat to death, but...BOOOOOOOB.

I am willing to admit that maybe I don't like seeing it because I am not a mom and can't appreciate the "beautiful connection" that undoubtedly happens when someone pulls really hard on your nipples for thirty minutes at a time. Perhaps there is something wrong with me deep inside. But hey, I know that no one at the pool wants to see my giant, cellulite ridden ass. Ergo, I wear shorts over my bikini bottom. I'm just looking out for the feelings (and eyes) of others.

Some may argue that "My huge areola--you know, the one the size of a dinner plate?--is only exposed for maybe three seconds until little Dracula latches on." Or, "you don't have to look at my gigundous mammories." Okay, fine. Problem: I am not sure you are a) familiar with my luck (I always catch those three seconds. Always. And it feels like an eternity.) or b) familiar with how that image burns itself on my mind. In fact, your face is now forever replaced by a giant, pinky-brown circle and that is how I remember you.

Look. I am all for your rights and your decisions. I will fight for you to be able to breastfeed whenever, wherever. Seeing that, however, makes me feel uncomfortable. It does. Sorry. My PREFERENCE is that you cover up. It's polite. It's caring. It's brownie points in the "do unto others" category. Am I going to speak up when you do expose yourself while you provide the basic necessity for your child to live? No. I will be as respectful of your rights as I would hope you would be of mine.

Okay! Wow! Now go read Jillian's opinion over at And Other Times?

Clash of the Titans, Vol. 1, Issue 1

Do you know what today is? Do you?

IT'S THE CLASH OF THE TITANS.

And by "clash" I mean, "Jillian and I loudly debate the necessity of publicly exposed breasts."

That's right, today is the first installment of my co-blogging endeavor with Jillian. We are taking a non-mommy vs. mommy approach and our first topic is--duh-duh-DUHHHH!--breastfeeding.

I think it will be no surprise that my views in particular come across as "right."

Jillian has seen me through some of the toughest times in my life and has been a true friend in every sense of the word. There did come a time during my divorce when most of my old friends kind of...well, not abandoned me, but they just didn't know what to say, so they didn't say anything at all. At the time, that felt very lonely, and yes in way, felt very much like rejection. Jillian, however, elbowed her way in and insisted on being there for me, even when I know I talked ad nauseum about my pathetic life over and over again and when I'm sure I was a total shit head.

Here's the thing, though...we are TOTAL opposites, in that she is REALLY opinionated and I am not.

Haha...I just snorted. I'm sure this will remain completely friendly and diplomatic and we will act like mature, reserved adults.

SO BRING IT, BEYOTCH.

Hard Hat Area

As you may have noticed from the random header WAY at the top of the page, I super suck at this website/html placement whatnot.  I apologize.  Please have patience while I figure this criz-ap out.

Of course, I could PAY someone to do it for me, but...I don't know if you realize this...that requires MONEY, which I don't want to spend at the moment.  In fact, I have three animals that I have to take to the vet tomorrow, THREE, all of which require FECAL SAMPLES.  Yes, I have to pay money to SAVE POOP just so they can tell me I'm an AMAZING MOM.

Relaax, Chicken.  There...I feel better now.

Idea…STOLEN

THAT PIECE OF CRAP DOOCE STOLE MY IDEA.

And by "piece of crap" I mean, "Blogging hero I adore and want to emulate." But whatever.

Yeah. STOLEN. My idea, where I want to chronicle my diet and exercise regimen?  She is STEALING it. Who cares if she saw it on Oprah? Like ANYONE watches OPRAH.

Insert smiley here.

My new favorite phrase:  "Relaaax, Chicken" as delivered by Cesar Milan on The Dog Whisperer.  LOVES HIM.

How Do I Love Thee?

So, the bf and I are watching "The Secret Lives of Women" on WE TV...

...HOLY BALLS..."WETv"...WET "V"....very clever, Women's Entertainment Television.

Anyway, the three women they are following are all different sizes. One woman is a BBW, one is a 6'5" model, and another is a dwarf. The series is a pretty cool documentary, and the stand-out star of this particular episode is the dwarf, who is an amazingly cool woman...all sass and sarcasm and wit.

She goes to visit her ex-boyfriend, who is also a dwarf, in LA. They experience a spa, and then do a blurb on how people think it's so cute to see little people hold hands. The camera then follows them as they go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant.

My boyfriend finds this an opportune time to yell, "Waiter! There's a midget in my soup, and it's wearing water wings!"

After which, I look at him adoringly and say, "And that's why I love you...which is sad."

And currently he's massaging his ass with this roller pin thingy he ordered on the internets.

Ah...bliss.