Bringing the Bar to the Nipple Line

After missing last friday's body pump class, the endorphin withdrawal symptoms were getting too much to bear, so I HAD to get myself to the next available BP class, which was 1.30pm on saturday. (actually, there was one at 9.00am, but I don't consider that realistic) The instructor speaks with a thick Aussie accent. There is something vile in my book, about the aussie accent, especially when it sprouts forth from a mouth that looks distinctly asian. Shudder, my godson from Sydney probably spayks loik that. Iniwhy, he teels us during the chist priss to bring the bar deign to owa nipple loin. (anyway, he tells us during the chest press to bring the bar down to our nipple line).

Now this is a far better description than the instruction from female instructors, which is bring the bar down to your bra line. How insensitive is that. (I've already rambled about this in an earlier blog). But the thing is, MY nipples are inverted. So I'm not sure where that nipple line is exactly. hank God for small mercies, such as the fact that I don't have to breast feed. The right nipple can still un-invert itself, given the right circumstances, but the left one, dead as tutankhamen. Moving on....

Despite the very jarring aussie accent, I enjoyed the BP class tremendously; pity its at an awkward hour, ie, Saturday nap hour, so it's unlikely that I'm gonna be a regular there....and besides, if I get my friday fix, I think I can last the weekend. In the evening, I went for body combat; okay, no aussie accent this time; in fact, quite the opposite, but I've no complaints.

In the morning, we had popped over to gleneagles to visit my cousin's first born son. Alas, we didn't get to see the baby, cos the mother was breast feeding. (as is usually the case when you visit them at hospitals, so I wonder, why do people even bother actually...might as well just call on the phone). My cousin had his arm in an arm guard, (like the knee guards for joggers with weak knees), apparently coz the wife had gripped him so hard while she was in labour. The dear lass decided to go au natural, ie, no pain killers, so, the pain has to go somewhere I guess.

Which brings me to my next point. One of his visitors was proclaiming loudly the benefits of breastfeeding, (side note - once again, I'm glad that my inverted nipples have not been the cause of my children's deprivation of breast milk) and in that "I know it all" tone, was declaring that her first kid was far more intelligent than the 2nd one, coz she had BF-ed her for a whole year; (the poor 2nd child must have felt like an idiot, standing next to her mother) I think this breast feeding thing has become an obsession, a self inflicted stress upon mothers, more so for those who can't do it, and are wracked by guilt thanks to these other obnoxious insensitive types who adopt a "better than thou" attitude just coz they had their kids hanging off their breasts.

Don't get me wrong, I think breast feeding is great, (in fact, looking at the price of formula, I'd have made the wife breast feed the kids until puberty), but I think with the pressure of parenthood, motherhood, labour, etc, a poor woman shouldnt have to feel less of a mother because she didn't breastfeed, or couldn't, just because some other woman proclaims her kid is intelligent BECAUSE she was breastfed. By that token, I must be a moron, coz in my day, formula was in, breast was out. Hmm, maybe that's why I can't win any Scrabble games against my friend who was breast fed.

So, mothers out there, take it easy la, don't stress yourself out unnecessarily if the mammary glands aren't like the waterfall in Charlie and the chocolate factory. If you can, you can, if you can't, well, just laugh it off with a big moooahahaha. [bracing for the backlash].


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