Saturday, January 06, 2007


I spent this afternoon with my two dearest, oldest friends. In high school we were each a blonde, green-eyed, youngest-sister-of-two-older-brothers. Now we are still friends, but I am a brunette. This is not the only difference; both of them are new mothers to infant sons, while I am a new mother to infantile male urges. Everything else is exactly the same. That last statement sounds more true in my head but less so when read aloud.

So I'm watching one friend breastfeed today during our lunch-date hangout, and I am trying to act "natural". I am trying because I know that breastfeeding is SO NATURAL and NORMAL and GOOD FOR THE BABY! I know this because it said so in the New Mommies Magazine I perused while sitting on my friend's couch. But knowing something rationally is so different from experiencing it viscerally. Der. I was like a pervert as I sat on the couch trying to both catch a peek AND avoid looking at my friend's HUGE ta-ta's (nipples like slices of salami. Maybe even the circumferance of a Personal Pan Pizza). I mean, the experience was utterly fascinating and totally weird. Like, here is my best friend, my age, so close to me, so like me, except she has a tiny man drinking milk out of her booby. Like: women's bodies make FOOD. What the....?!?! That's not a revelation, really, but it blows my mind! When I have children, my body will like, MAKE FOOD. And not just any part of my body: I'm talking about my TITS! My TITS WILL MAKE FOOD! That is so awesome!

I do look forward to my turn as a milky wellspring, but I have to say I am very much enjoying NOT being a food source right now. I mean, all that breastmilk turns into one thing: ca-ca-doody. And let's face it: dirty doody poopy diapers are kind of a drag -- right now I am prepared to handle only my own.


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