Last week at work, I was asked to update our office map. It seems that our lawyers had contacted management and told them that we needed a ‘private room.’ Easy enough for me, it simply meant I had to change a vacant office’s name from “office” to “private room” and send a .pdf to human resources.
But what does one do in such a room? The HR director explained to me that a “private room” is used as a private place where nursing mothers express breast milk. Gross! Suddenly visions of stained walls, sticky floors and refrigerators full of the yucky substance danced through my perverted mind. And that office used to be so nice!
When I expressed my disgust, a coworker yelled at me: “It doesn’t squirt out like a water gun, you idiot. They’re not like penises!”
As a man who has never lactated, or experienced a lactating woman, I turned towards my two favorite research tools, Wikipedia and YouTube. I searched Wikipedia first, held back a serious burst of projectile vomit, and found out this:
The baby nursing from its own mother is the most ordinary way of obtaining breastmilk, but the milk can be pumped and then fed by baby bottle, cup and/or spoon, supplementation drip system, and nasogastric tube. Breastmilk can be supplied by a woman other than the baby’s mother; either via donated pumped milk (for example from a milk bank), or when a woman nurses a child other than her own at her breast – this is known as wetnursing.
A milk bank? Those places exist? Seriously? That’s disgusting. In my mind, it’s like a dairy farm where machines suckle away at those chestly lady mounds. Even more disgusting are the websites devoted to boob juice recipes.
And as I am a glutton for punishment, I searched YouTube before repainting the walls of my apartment with barf. And you thought eat da poo poo was bad. Enjoy!