OK, that's a lie. I didn't. But I should have. Because breastfeeding? Not so simple for me.
|I MS Painted some shorts on myself for everyone's sakes.|
|#YouKnowAWhiteGirlHasAFeverWhen she starts flashing pretend gang signs.|
This is my new BFF, an Ameda elite breast pump. I love that it looks like a '50s typewriter, or some kind of stenographer's machine that your tits dictate into. "Take this down, Ameda. I'm feeling a bit nippy today!" Whenever I'm not feeding the little man, refreshing the various cotton pads that line my entire body, or picking out my least stained pair of Christmas-themed pajama pants to wear in order to seduce Jeff into ordering me Thai food, I am hooked up to this thing like a Holstein. A very underachieving Holstein, I might add. My cups do not currently runneth over, they dribbleth out.
So, I think I've provided you with enough sexy mental (and physical) images for the week. You are totally welcome, as always. Don't say I never gave you anything.