Milk, It Does A Body Good

The truth behind the Lois and Aimee photo will now be told. Grab yourself a nice hot cup of coffee and sit back and enjoy the ride. Today's stories are about boobies and milk, which is like cookies and milk, only much more fun.

Katey, Aimee and I had just finished having dinner at the pub. We were outside shooting the shit. I don't know how the topic of breastfeeding and boobs came up it just did. Perhaps Aimee's height had something to do with the topic at hand. Anyhow, what I do remember are the stories I shared, which I will now put in writing so I can add more things to yesterday's list.

I breastfed both of my kids, and my husband. Okay, so maybe he wasn't a willing participant, but when I'd come out of the shower, boobs engorged from the heat of the water pounding down, milk sprayed from the twins like two geysers. What's a girl to do? Open your towel, aim at your man and watch him run for cover. That's what. I'd chase that poor man around the house every chance I got.

I was like Clint Eastwood if he traded his guns for boobs, "Go ahead punk, milk my duct! POW! BANG! Here's milk in your eye!" I'd say with a sinister giggle.

A couple of times he screamed like a school girl and I was able to shoot him right in the mouth. Katey and Aimee laughed as I demonstrated the side-to-side motion in which I "shot" Mr. Lane. Keep in mind, we were outside, at a pub, on a Friday night, there was a line of people out the door, waiting to be seated inside. Did they slow me down? Hardly.

Next I shared the story of "Puddles". After having each child, I was thrilled to be able to lay on my tummy again. There was a down fall to that, puddles. A couple of nights, always at some ungodly hour, Mr. Lane would shake me and yell, "Your boobs are spilling all over me! I'm laying in a puddle now!"

Nothing like hurting a girl's feelings! He could have said, "Darling, please wake up, your cups runneth over." But since he didn't, I did what any other woman would do, I squeezed in as close as possible to Mr. Lane every night thereafter. He always said he wanted a hot wet chick in bed next to him.

Katey and Aimee were saddened by the news that Lane 2 was not born very healthy. I'll share that story some other time. But because she wasn't well and had to stay in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) rather than go home, I had to pump in order for her to have breast milk through her feeding tube.

I actually went to the pharmacy and ordered the best pump they had. The super duper industrial one. Every three hours I attached myself to two funnels, flipped the switch and watched the life get sucked right out of me. My nipples were pulled and tugged in ways no baby could possibly muster the strength to accomplish. I'd watch as my entire areolas were swallowed into the funnel, down the tube and into the bottle. (Okay, so I have totally exaggerated that, but still!) My body eventually started over producing, just like a cow's does.

Every morning I returned to the hospital with a full bag of bottled milk. It wasn't long before I was pumping 18 ounces of milk every three hours. Even if my little Lane 2 was a calf, she wouldn't have drank that much milk. Finally the nurse in the NICU had a little talk with me.

"You know Lois, your little girl is not going to need all of this milk. You might want to slow down on the pumping."

She acted like I was just some sideshow freak happy to be getting my pump on. And then, she offered the unthinkable.

"Lois, many moms aren't able to provide breast milk to their babies. Have you ever considered selling yours? You do have enough here to feed the entire nursery."

That bitch all but called me Bossy. I thought I caught her admiring my twins as if they were utterly, marketable. I wasn't having any of her insanity.

It was soon after that very moment that Aimee leaned in as if to rest her head upon my bosom for a little suckle. And just as I was telling Aimee, all I have now is powdered milk, Katey snapped the picture.

And as a quick aside from yesterday's inanity, the dirty truth about lopsided boobs. I can't blame them on becoming a mom. My right tit has always had a little more oomph than my left. If I could find a bra that had a 34" B + & C size, I would be the happiest woman alive. Okay, happiest is a stretch, I would be a little less apt to want to burn my bra at the end of the day.

Basically what all that means... this part is for the men, because I know most of you lovely ladies know what I'm talking about. So guys, look below at the picture of Imogene Coca.



Okay, now, you see how her eyes are two different sizes? That is what my boobs look like. Except I hardly ever wear glasses on them.

(Mental note to self, add all of the above to yesterday's list.)