Tit Nipper

I spent a fair chunk of time pregnant. I give brilliant reviews of pregnancy, and on the most part, loved the experience. However, there were a number of unpleasant side effects I endured including nausea, moods dippier than the roller coaster at Luna Park, a bad case of The Enormous Bottom, pimply skin, a strange aversion to broccoli, and one of the worst cases of fat feet and cankles I’m sure the world has seen yet… to name a few.

I gave birth without intervention, yes, the most rewarding and amazing experience of my life, no doubt. However, it did not come without its challenges, namely waddling around for a number of weeks following feeling like an extra in a John Wayne Western.

These days I run a twenty-four hour milk store, and avoid certain foods that I love in order to fill my breasts with abundance and provide Baby with top notch nourishment.

I have sacrificed my career and willingly changed my life’s priorities to ensure all members of our family live healthy and happy lives. I even spend part of my days doing housework just to prove how dedicated I really am to this job.

My hair, once shiny and voluptuous, is beginning to fall out and I had someone recently describe breastfeeding breasts to me as a pair of old socks with golf balls at the ends.

I bare myself day and night, in all manner of locations. I flash parts of myself to tradesmen, waitresses, bus drivers, passers by.

So.

Do I really deserve to be bitten – hard – on the nipples? I thrust forward highly sensitive parts of myself – for them to be chomped and gnawed at like old bones?

Baby does not even have teeth yet. I can only imagine where this situation is headed.

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