Breast friends

I woke up this morning with a couple of cantelopes strapped to my chest. At least, that's what it felt like. No, I'm not some post-op breast enhancement victim. I'm just lactating. A lot.

Moo. That's what I feel like sometimes. A glorified cow. Worse yet, because I pump extra milk for donation and for nights out, if I don't keep up a regular pumping schedule, I end up with the chest of a less-than-sensible exotic dancer.

To me, that's the funniest part. I know some guys go gaga over the "enhanced" look, but do they really realize what it is they find so attractive? One word: lactators! Those big, fake boobs are merely mimicking the look of breasts engorged with milk.

Then there's the fact I leak. Like a faucet. As if the achy engorged feeling weren't bad enough, I sport a couple of wet spots on my chest and my scent can best be described as au lait. If the look of engorged breasts is so attractive, is the smell of breast milk some sort of fertility pheromone?

Our bodies do some pretty darned strange things. But they're pretty amazing too.