My life as a cow

I decided long before Addie was born that I was going to breastfeed, and I don't regret the experience one bit-- it's a fantastic way to bond with my baby, it gives her the nutrients and antibodies that she needs to grow strong and healthy, and it is an excellent excuse to sit on the couch and watch reruns of Glee without having to feel guilty that I'm not accomplishing anything. However, when you both breastfeed and work-- because apparently you can't buy diapers with baby smiles-- you are also required to pump, which is an almost debilitatingly unpleasant experience.

I suppose it could be worse-- I at least have an office I can pump in. Without it, I would be forced to go to the Women's Room at work, which is really just a small room with a shower and a bench in it (why is there a shower at the insurance company where I work? Has there ever been a woman sitting at her desk thinking, "Man! Binding these policies has really caused me to work up a sweat!"). The room is governed by its own set of laws, making it a lactation Thunderdome-- Four boobs enter, two boobs leave.

Even my office, though, is not free from peril-- I have a small window that looks out into the common area, leaving me exposed to gawkers. I ordered blinds, but due to a snafu, they never arrived; too freaked out from fending off an extremely aggressive fellow pumper who attempted to bust in on me during my last visit to the Women's Room, I took matters into my own hands and just taped a bunch of paper over the window:

But as you can see, for reasons beyond even my own understanding, I chose to use paper that was already pre-three-hole-punched, essentially turning my office into a peep booth for any brave soul who dared to put his eye up to it. Sort of like that Madonna video for "Open Your Heart," only instead of getting a glimpse of Madge, you get to see me hooked up to a milking machine. Sexy.

Also, you will find that should you put up a giant wall of holey paper over your common room window, you are basically announcing to the world HELLO! I AM MILKING MYSELF IN HERE! PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT IT! And people will ask you about it-- coworkers, the maintenance guy, and, in fact, the guy I called today to ask why my blinds never showed up ("Oh!" he said. "That's your crazy office!").

I'm not sure it will be much better when the blinds arrive-- yes, it will be classier. But it will also serve as the proverbial Sock on the Door-- Blinds up = stop on by! Blinds down = National Geographic Boobs On Display.

All I know is, three times a day, five days a week, I have to live with the fact that I am, for all intents and purposes, topless at my desk at work, and everyone knows it. Among the people in my department, I refer to the act of pumping as "The Unspeakable," as in "I wish I could help you with this project, but I have to go commit The Unspeakable right now."

After all that work-based nudity, I guess I could use a good shower...