Tag Archives: breastfeeding

The Man Who Breastfed

Let’s get all of the obvious out of the way: Breastfeeding is natural, normal, healthy blah blah blah, and everyone who doesn’t believe me, just crack open your flesh Bible and somewhere deep in them musty folds you’ll read about how God made tittays for men to suck on babies to get their food.

No problem, right?
Except that evil society has made this dastardly equation. Behold!

bOObs = SEX

That’s why you’re not allowed to walk around topless in public, because then a man mayhap rape you out of the sheer cataract of his desire, or else he’ll go atop a tall building and start shooting people, but the very least, he’ll probably crash his car staring at your rack. That is what boobs mean. They are dangerous because they’re sexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.

And sex is baddddddddddddd. (But it’s also funnnnn……)

So what happens when one body part gets two functions?

This is your rifle, this is your gun. This one’s for fightin’, this one’s for fun.

-Your gun is in your pants and your breasts react sexually only when you’re involved in sex with your partner. Yes, Timmy?
-What if you’re breasfeeding and having a baby suck on your breasts?
-Then that’s functional, not sexual.
-But isn’t breastfeeding pretty intimate? Doesn’t having your breasts sucked feel good, even if it’s a baby? I mean, your body doesn’t know the difference, right?
-Then that’s sensual, not sexual.

I love how breastfeeding advocates have made ‘sensual’ the thinking man’s ‘sexual’. If breastfeeding feels good (and we’re talking orgasm good), then we’ll call it ‘sensual’. That way, you can do what’s healthiest for your kid and nobody has to feel like a pervert. Actually, breast feeding has never made me see greens more vividly, suddenly hear violins or opened up a wine’s bouquet in my nose. But it has made me come.

So imma gonna go out on a limb and be one of the few who confessed that breast feeding CAN feel sexual.

Let me postface this by saying that breastfeeding doesn’t, in general, feel great for me. You would think it did. I am someone who likes having my partyhats played with, but hey, maybe (–)’s technique is lacking. At any rate, in the beginning, he made my nipples literally bleed and even now that we’ve both gotten the hang of it, I’d say 98 percent of the times it doesn’t do anything for me beyond bonding–it’s  an opportunity to watch him close his eyes while he feeds, feel his little hand curl over my finger and think about how lucky I am to have such an adorable little Nazgul with a hearty appetite. Feeling him eat feels safe and good and that’s all. But sometimes, once in a while, stars are aligned differently and it feels different good. If you know what I mean, and sure, the sensation is accompanied by some sheepishness. But it’s kind of like getting a hard-on at the massause. You don’t feel like a pervert (at least I don’t). I mean, I’m having someone rub my naked body with hot oil while there’s a chorus of Nepalese panflutes cooing in the background!!!!

[Close your eyes. Can you see it?
rubrubrub
tooo rolooooo tooroolooroolooooooo]

What the hell does anyone expect?!?

Now before anyone starts coming to arrest me/take my kid away from me/say I’m a sexual deviant or a son-lover, let me clarify here: I am an equal opportunity organism. I respond to one and I respond to all. The person who said the brain was the biggest erogenous zone obviously hadn’t met a sexually simplistic organism such as myself. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t NEED a kid sucking at my tit to get off (my def. of a child molester-lacto-pervert), but if someone should, perchance, happen to suck on my tit, I may. Get off, that is. It’s just the way my stupid tits work. They don’t discriminate. So if the sucking is done by the wind, or by a little baby, or you (yes YOU, Gentle Reader!), getting off might in fact occur. Is that my fault? Should I feel guilty about it? Do I like smokey cheese? And you know:

You’ve got all kinds out there. You’ve got

1. The women who love breastfeeding. They think it’s beautiful and healthy and rainbows and four-leaf crovers.  (Word.)
2. The women who hate breastfeeding. They think it’s sinful, ugly, wicked. These are probably the same women who are not wanting evolution taught in schools anymore.
3. The women who want to love breastfeeding, but find it physically hurts so much, they can’t continue. : (
4. The women who want to love breastfeeding, but find it sexually stimulating and it puts them in a psychologically creepy place so they can’t continue. : (
5. The women who love breastfeeding and (quite objectively) find it sexually stimulating sometimes and say fuck it. I just don’t feel guilty because I didn’t ask to like it! *raspberry*
And last but not least:
6. The men who are breastfeeding and thinking: this is kind of cool. I get to feed my kid the healthiest, not to mention cheapest diet Nature can offer and get nipple play at the same time. Who says there’s no such thing as a free lunch?

Isn’t that the least Nature can do after making the process so shockingly not intuitive? And then this whole binary sex OR reproduction choice people expect your body to make is messed up. I mean, my poor (–) started his life with his head stuck up my vag! How’s that for fucking Freudian? (As I and you started our lives, I mean, stuck up in our respective mothers’ vaginas …. you were not stuck in mine.. oh whatever, you get it.)

It’s complicated. If you’re out there, breastfeeding and wondering if you’re the only screwed up person displaying perfectly recognizable but contextually not-okay bodily reactions to nursing your kid, know now that you’re not.

I even invite you to share or not feel guilty about it.*

*(Unless you start nursing in silky teddies with Celine Dion and candles in the background. Then please seek help.)

[God, you know when you feel you've written something totally inappropriate and your brain says: You can't have people read that. And the inner dolphin whispers I'll give you cookies if you click 'publish'?

This is totally one of those posts. Ahh... fuck it.

Click.]

Goodnight, moofies.

Starry, Starry Night

or Just Van Gogh for It

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand.
-from don mcLean’s starry starry night…

Happy May, people =)  One month gone.

Where did it go? Where did your month go?

A whorl on the side of (--)'s head reminded me of my art hero's iconic painting.

Mine went to figuring out the subtle tricks to keep (–) alive. I think me and J are getting pretty good…. =) (My nipples disagree, but we’ll ignore their bloody cries for now.) All I can say is: I used to mock the idea of a lactation consultant. I mean, a breast-feeding consultant? Are you f-ing kidding me? What’s easier than putting your kid to your boob and having it eat?

….

I guess a lot of things, to be honest.

Lactation consultants and people who have seeked them out: My apologies, because it is NOT easy! (Or my kid’s dysfunctional >:P Or my nipples are dysfunctional >:P) Either way… breastfeeding… es ist keine Ponyhof. (German for: Shit hurts like a mofo!)

Counter-bonus: I think I’m secretly a baby-factory… I had a breezy pregnancy and now wake up in a puddle of my own breast milk regularly. I’m starting to consider selling this stuff. Online, some women call it the ‘white gold’… Complicated dances and intricate deals must be made with the devil for their milk to emerge. It’s got little to do with breast size, but the position of the stars in the sky.  And luck. ‘Oh yes,’ my mom’s best friend in Hungary says. ‘Look at these huge leather sacks! -here she tugs at her breasts dismissively- ‘You think any decent amount of milk ever came out of them? Bah! And then you see these skinny little bitches and milk’s running down all the way to their ____s!’

I’ve been one of those lucky bitches. No lambs sacrificed to the princess of Darkness, yet my tatas are twin ICBMs poised to feed a Vietnamese child army. Should I try to sell this? Should I do my good deed for the year and donate?

I’ll have to look into this…