When Rod and I first found out that Ricky was on the way, I made the promise to myself and my unborn child that I would breastfeed for a year. I know the experts claim that a child should be breastfed for at least two years but, all due respect to them and my son, that just isn't going to happen. I miss pretty, lacy bras! I miss low-cut tops! I miss feeling that special sort of sexy that feeding bras just don't lend to an outfit, no matter how well put together. Right after Ricky was born I was given about a million and one clothing vouchers - which I spent in record time on some gorgeous stuff! - but I am yet to even wear some of it! Hell, don't get me wrong, Carriwell makes a damn comfortable feeding bra! But they don't really fit under that pretty, lacy cami. I despise seeing a new mother walking in the mall with her babe in her arms and her bra on display for all to admire. Shoulder straps are an inevitable part of life, but when I can see the back strap with the catches sticking out above the back of a shirt, or the top of a cup peeking out of a dress, I feel ill. Having a newborn is no reason to look slovenly! And so I patiently sit with a closet full of gorgeous new clothing waiting for the day I can again don La Senza!
