Sometimes, the little things slip your mind, e.g., rehooking your nursing bra when the pizza guy rings the doorbell.
The other day I answered the door to a college student selling one of those pizza coupon deals to raise money for the project du jour. I listened to his pitch while the girls buzzed around me like frenzied bees about to swarm. The baby had just fallen asleep in a milk coma and was cuddled down in the family room, hands limp and face peaceful.
Even as the guy talked, though, I could see him struggling to maintain eye contact. Now, I’ve always been a well-endowed girl when it comes to The Girls. Breastfeeding has certainly, shall we say, amplified that. Still, I didn’t think it was such a spectacle as to cause that much obvious embarrassment in the 20-something young man. A little irritated, both from my raucous children and his wandering eyes, I quickly wrote a check, grabbed my pizza coupons and closed the door.
At which point I realized that 1) my top t-shirt was pulled halfway up my belly, leaving my stained and brightly colored tank top exposed and 2) I’d neglected to re-hook my nursing bra. This left one breast hanging out against my t-shirt where a dark circle of leaking milk had formed. More notably, the appendage in question was also significantly LOWER than the other, contained, side.
There was a time in my life when I would have been mortified. I would have quickly yanked my clothes back in to place and been torn between a desire to run after the guy and rattle off some kind of inane explanation or to close all the drapes and go huddle in a corner in total abject embarrassment.