Spent five and a half years getting my tits out. That's not pole dancing either. So I know a bit about breastfeeding and the answer is - don't bother.
With the special milk rooms for mums that is. With a babe latched on, work goes west. Fact. I've got them out everywhere from Athens to Zagreb and it's been easy-peasy. The only bit of bother was on a train to Newcastle when some perv couldn't take his eyes off my jumper, getting well worked up at what was going on underneath. The little mite was suffocating up there, but the good stuff was on tap and she wasn't complaining.
Nobody ever complained about the fabulous figure that came with the job either. Old workmates were especially appreciative, having known me in my former, flatter, state. Not sure they would have been quite so keen had I got them out in the office though. It's one thing at the Christmas do, another entirely on a Tuesday lunchtime. Why would you waltz into work with a tiny baby anyway? Why not stay at home for six months to give them a good start?
I think myself lucky to have been able to keep at it. This idea of a room at work for feeding mums is a nonsense because babes love it, it takes forever and the best place for it is in front of daytime TV. That's speaking as one who knows.
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