An Open Letter to Breastfeeding Mothers Everywhere (the Repost)

*I originally posted this on Facebook, but since most of you milky bitches never passed the word on (at least that is what my own personal run-ins with lactating fuckwits would indicate) I've decided to give it another go.

Dear Breastfeeding mothers,
First, this note is not for most of you, but I write to you all in hopes that you will perhaps pass my sentiments to your pals at your next La Leche meeting, in the nursing bra department of Target, or near the fenugreek supplements at Whole Foods.

In short, we bottle feeding mothers are fed the fuck up with your bullshit.
#1. It’s none of your business.
#2.  Some of us CAN’T breastfeed.  Did you understand that?  It’s not that we’re NOT breastfeeding.  It’s that we CAN’T.  And for those of us who choose NOT to, even if we can, please see #1.
#3. To ask a woman who is feeding her child formula if she “tried” to breastfeed may get you punched in the mouth or worse.  If it’s me you’re asking, I’ll punch you in the vagina.  But to each her own.
#4.  I don’t care what you do for you child.  Supplement with formula? Give one bottle a day? A year? Call your mother and tell her all about it, I’d rather cut my ear off and nail it to a tree than listen to all the things that you think we “have in common.”
#5. Have I thought about all the benefits?  No, of course not.  I don’t think about anything other than how well rested I look when my husband does all the night feedings.
#6. Oh, you know a great lactation consultant?  I’ve never heard of those.  What do they do?  Really? Thank you so much for telling me.  What with living in LOS FUCKING ANGELES I’m really so out of touch with all the resources available. Dipshit.
#7. Yes, I was breastfed. And my sister was not.  I have allergies, she does not. And she scored higher on her ACT and her IQ test.  Clearly, my mother did me a disservice.
#8. I somehow managed to lose all of my baby weight without waiting for my children to drain it out of my nipples.
#9. Just because my kid is next to your kid in the sandpit does not make us girlfriends.
#10. I’ve got 2 kids under the age of 2, I’m exhausted and irritated before you ever begin speaking.  And just so we’re clear, I’m dying to punch one of you “holier than thou” broads in the vag.

Lots of store-bought powdered love,
Tisha

p.s. #11. Please don't expect us not to stare and look horrified when your toddler puts his mouth on your boob after saying "Milk, Mommy" and unbuttoning your shirt.  He's too old.  And you were clearly fucked too young.  Get some therapy and leave that poor child alone.  Yes, lady at Fashion Square this past Friday at 1:20pm outside Banana Republic, I mean you.