After all that

I’ve been wondering all day just how I could work it into our blog that my right breast is like a leaking tap. Forget letdown, forget baby emptying the breast, this bosom is dripping for the world. He can hang off there for a good 20 minutes and it will still just drip drip drip. It’s quite fascinating and even more compelling. Sometimes, in between feeds and the lag time between Dr Phil on Channel 9 and Oprah on Channel 10, I just sit there and marvel at my breasts ability to spontaneously lactact through all manner of clothing no matter when the next feed is due or if one has just passed. Seriously, its remarkable. If my boobs weren’t quite so physically repulsive (in the vein of being a cross between sagging honeydew melons and the breasts on an elderly indiginous person where they make sense and normally are sporting quite a tan, as opposed to my near florescent have.NEVER.see.daylight white pair)I’d take a photo and post it

right.here.

What is a little more worrying is that it highlights my very desperate need for breast pads and my very chronic lack thereof because well, the bounty bag only gives you one sample. and man, there’s hardly room in my bra for my boobs at the moment, so fitting the boob equivalent of a sanitary pad (and I’m not talking slimline either) in there as well is really a bit of a pipedream.

But what is most worrying of all, is that as the boob leaks and leaks it leaks through everything and well, quite frankly, I’m beyond caring. That’s right people, tonight, I took my child to the age-inappropriate school disco in a boob milk leakage stained t-shirt. I’ve also gone shopping in such a shirt, dropped children to school in such a shirt (and picked them up several hours later in same said shirt). Then, tonight, had some stains added to during the whole hideous little girl squealing fiasco. Sure, the New Recruit was there to sort of cover it up, but really, combined with the hairiest legs known to mankind (I’m rivalling a Nimbin Feral. Trully) and the daggiest sort of cargo pants that are actually made of tracksuit material (they are Bonds if that makes it any better) I think Felix was quietly happy I sat outside, away from the general populace.