Titties in The New Yorker!

The New Yorker this week has an article all about tits!

OK, not really. It's about breast pumps.

These milking machines have become so ubiquitous, the author claims, that in some cases they're actually promoted instead of breastfeeding. That is, women are feeding their babies milk they pumped into a bottle when they could simply be breastfeeding them. (This is especially in the United States, where we have no maternity leave to speak of. So companies are getting tax breaks to set up "lactation rooms" so that poor women can work and pump instead of staying home on welfare and breastfeeding.)

I HATE pumping. I hate schlepping the goddamn Medela Pump In Style back and forth every day on the subway. It's HEAVY. And I especially hate having to put it on the floor when the train is crowded, but sometimes I have no choice.

I hate having to hook myself up to it twice a day while I sit in the supply closet at work.

Of course, I'm glad I have it. It's kept my milk supply going so I can keep breastfeeding Snookums when I'm home. (And lately, Snookums pretty much wants to breastfeed nonstop when I'm around. Her idea of the perfect situation would be for me to take off my shirt the minute I got home and go around topless so that she could grab a sip whenever she felt like it.)

The time I hated pumping most was when I had to go visit a client. I was in the early stages of breastfeeding Snookums, so my breasts still got engorged. I was too embarrassed to ask my client for some privacy (now, I wouldn't be), so I went to the bathroom with the intention of pumping. But there was no electric outlet.

I ended up sitting on the floor in an empty office, pumping while I was hiding under a desk. Why? Because the office had a GLASS DOOR AND WALLS, so hiding under a desk was the only way passersby wouldn't see me.