I should rename this post Titty Quitter 2.0.
I tried. Oh...did I try. Pumpity pump pump; pumpity pump pump. Up through the night to make the milk. Moo. Etc. I have a freezer full of milk to prove it. I have a $70/month bill for a hospital grade titty sucker to prove it. I have all kinds of other proof, too, as follows:
Raynaud's of the Nipple (Seriously.)
So basically? I quit. I can treat all of this and it may or may not come back. But you know what? Chicken Butt. HA! Also, fuck pumping. I am clearly lactionally inept. Neosure it is!
I'm off to stick my breasts into the freezer and then once they are numb I am going to find a drug dealer who can give me lots and lots of drugs because OH MY GOD MILK, I GET IT, YOU'RE THERE, STOP PLZ. (Kthxbai.)
I can't wait to see what ridiculous thing happens next. Maybe I'll lose an eye and have to wear a pirate patch? Seems plausible, what, with my desire to poke my eye out and my lack of self control exhibited most recently by eating an entire container of Nutella in two days.
One Year Ago: She Walks!
Two Years Ago: Next Pregnancy Will Be Jimmy Dean's Love Child
Three Years Ago: Oh Miranda, I Relate