It's almost time for me to start breastfeeding again and so, it's also time for all the crap that goes with it. Like, last time, I left a restaurant to breastfeed in the car. I've gone in washroom stalls, left conversations, etc. Why can't I be more free? It's natural and all of that. I really don't mind when other mothers do it. Maybe this time I'll challenge myself? This time, I'm going
This time, I'm going to be the one that takes breastfeeding to a whole new level, making even the most comfortable, uncomfortable. They'll never admit it but they'll feel a little awkward as I pull out a boob, finish up the punch line of whatever extremely interesting and insightful story I'm telling, then breastfeed, then put the baby down, maybe throw my head back in laughter at the appropriate time and then put my shirt back on. Oh, yeah. Because this time, the shirt's coming right off. I'll be topless from the waist up! Deal with that, public! And I'm not just talking about in the comfort of my own home. Oh, no. I mean in restaurants, malls, church (if labour and delivery should be so traumatic that I turn to the Lord?), the library (should I chose to learn to read books), where ever the hell I am! In fact, I'm going to make people so damn uncomfortable with breastfeeding that slinking out of the room will become the new normal for breastfeeders. Then finally, I'll be free to be myself! Repressed, awkward and standoffish.
Viva La Revolucion!