If you are of the male persuasion, you may want to skip this one. And if you choose to read, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I HATE nursing bras. I figure that by the time I’m done nursing Elijah, I will have worn a nursing bra for two and a half years of my life. (Not consecutively. Cumulatively.) I’ve hated them from the beginning, and I hate them still.
First of all, they provide no support. None. I’m not exaggerating. Zero support. I get it. Underwire hinders milk flow or supply or whatever, but can’t we invent something that would make me look a little less like a woman living in the bush? Seriously. We wonders why we look the way we do after we have kids and nurse them for so long, and honestly, I think the stupid nursing bras are partly to blame. Not completely. But partly. I mean, I just had a kid. I have the fresh stretch marks, the extra cushion around the middle, I really don’t need the saggy boobs to go with it. Give me some lift, bra makers!
Also, they have giant straps that are super annoying. It feels like they are two inches thick and have a huge plastic latch on the front that makes it nearly impossible to hide in a tank top. And I live in Southern California. We wear tank tops. A lot. I miss the tiny straps of the regular Victoria’s secret bra.
That’s the other thing. Victoria’s Secret bras are actually pretty. They are so dainty and feminine. If I was to name my Victoria’s Secret bra it would be Lily or Ella. Feminine. Lovely. Dainty. If I was to name my nursing bra it would be Bertha or Helga. Big. Boxy. Uncomfortable. I’ve looked for a pretty nursing bra. One that would make me feel more like a lady and less liked a puked on, pooped on, mommy, and there’s nothing. You can say that there is, but there isn’t. You know what happens? You start comparing nursing bras. And you do find some that are prettier than others, but they aren’t pretty. You just comparing them to really, really ugly ones. So in actuality, they are just the least ugly. But still ugly, nonetheless.
So, needless to say, the countdown begins. I have 5 months left until my nursing career is over and I’m not mourning it at all. I realize the bonding is special… blah, blah, blah. But we’ve bonded. I love the kid. He loves me.
In 5 months I’m burning my nursing bras. All of them.