A Story About Boobs.

Something I learned in New York that I am passing along to you: 

Travel with a make-up bag, change of clothes/shoes, and breast pump at all times.

Now, I was really prepared for this trip. Really-REALLY prepared. Like I packed more clothes than I did when we went to Europe for 17 days, type of prepared.

I had no idea what to expect so I brought a bit of everything from my closet....little did I know I would be wearing basically the same outfit for the entire trip.

How did I end up wearing the same thing for 4 days with no make-up, or hair brush, or toothpaste, you ask?

We hardly stayed in the same spot. We were out late and slept in different places, and there was never a plan set in stone. So, my make up and clothes were in one spot while I was in another ALL the time. 

You know what that means? A very important piece of equipment was also in a different spot than I was at all times....my handy dandy breast pump! (que Steve, from blue's clues)

This is a nursing mothers nightmare. 

The very first day I realized it was huge issue and bought a little hand held pump to carry in my purse. Whew...problem solved. Wrong. 

Wrong because on the second night out while dancing my booty off, the suction cup part of the pump broke off and fell out of my purse.

This means the third day I woke up on a blow up mattress in a part of town with no Babies R Us in sight, and no plans to go back to Brooklyn with rock hard, hurting boobs. 

I made the decision to brave it out and just see what happened. 

Fast forward 9 hours and we're all meeting up to go to a dinner at this amazing place....luckily there was a Sephora right near the restaurant and I could put some makeup on (thank you Jesus), and up until that point I was doing ok. Uncomfortable, but ok. 

We get into the restaurant and an hour or so into the meal I realize I'm so not fine. 

One boob is growing by the minute and the other seems to be shrinking. I'm freaking out and it hurts, so I whip out my phone and start googling.

I find this hand expressing technique and I'm so weirded out by it, but desperate, so I make my way down to the restroom.

I kneel over a toilet and start hand expressing and to my astonishment, it works! Instant relief!

So, there I am.

 Topless. 

Squeezing my boobs into the fanciest toilet I've ever seen in one of the nicest restaurants in  New York City.

Happy as a clam. 

Until I hear something....

A gasp?

Then small screams...

I turn around and a lady is half way into my stall with all her girlfriends behind her, with their hands covering their mouths.

I didn't lock the freaking bathroom stall.

They're all staring at me and I have milk flowing freely.

....I don't have words...I'm fumbling for something to say.....anything!

They're not moving-I'm not moving. We were all frozen in fear.

I'm pretty sure they didn't have a clue what I was doing, and they thought I was some pervert, so I finally mumble out.....

"buuutt, ummmmm......oh! I have a baby!"

I have a baby?!?!?!? DUH! How about "I'm so sorry, I'm a nursing mother and I don't have a pump. This is a last resort. Please don't think I'm some half naked, boob squeezing, creepy girl."

Which is exactly what they thought I was.

For sure.

They shut the door and I died a little bit instantly. 

Then I started laughing and couldn't stop laughing. 

The scene must have looked soooo ridiculous.

So why do I choose to share this with you....Honestly, in hopes that those women will stumble across this blog one day. Its my chance to explain myself. 

And also because its just funny. If I cant laugh, I'll cry and I'd chose to laugh 90 out of 100 times.

There you have it. Learn from my mistakes!