I once wrote an ode to my breastfeeding boobs. Oh, I kid you not. Look, after having kids one must bid those pre-pregnancy boobies adieu and those full, perfectly round breastfeeding boobies well, they have to go buh-bye too. Unless you want your child asking for “Mommy’s Milk” to drink along with the steak he can chew and possibly cut all by himself. In return for being selfless life makers, we get half full water balloons to shove into our bras and push up for parties … or for the peeps like me, who had nothing to begin with: cat boobs. Yes, I’m sure you’re picturing that lovely image. Sadly, it was my daughter who alerted me to the fact that I had cat boobs, which immediately reminded me of the scene in Meet the Parents when Ben Stiller explains how one can milk a cat teats. That thought alone causes a gag reflex. So, I guess the question is — how can we perk up those puppies, hoist those hooters, lift those lactoids and fill those flapjacks? Duh.

I answered those questions Continue reading →