When Pumping Gets....Weird

Not too long after I went back to work after maternity leave, I had to fly up to our corporate office in Northern California for a meeting. I felt like quite the professional working mother, adorned in a pencil skirt and heels, laptop bag slung over my shoulder and toting a purse devoid of diapers, polishing off the outfit that (ironically) screamed "Look at me! I'm a working mom! Proof that you can have it all!" with the best of accessories - my breast pump. Yes, I was committed to nursing, but  I also did not want to knock out my coworkers with my voluptuously lactating rack. You don't have to say it, I already know. I have Employee of the Year written all over.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was jonesing for a pump. I asked HR where a lactating working woman could go for a little privacy. Now, I'm no diva, but I was hoping for a nice comfy office with a lock. Not too much to ask for, in my opinion.

Waaaay too much to ask for, in their opinion. HR opened up a cozy little space otherwise known as The Smallest Storage Closet in the World. I looked around skeptically, shrugged, and shimmied my way into the confines of the cupboard, shaking hands with broken printers and giving the old what's up to the forgotten fax machines. Just when I thought this couldn't get any more awkward, I heard the booming male voice of my boss just outside the door.

"Where's Brooke?" he bellowed. I heard the muted voice of someone no doubt informing him that *giggle* she's *giggle* pumping *giggle giggle*. I rolled my eyes. Yes, providing life giving sustenance for my child is so *giggle* silly *giggle giggle*.

"OH!" I heard my boss stutter loudly. "WHOA! Ok. Did NOT need to know that!" He then erupted into the most embarrassed laugh I have ever heard, like a schoolboy who just realized that his mother has boobs. As I put my own boobs back in their home, I hid out a little longer until I was sure the coast was clear before emerging like a breastfeeding ninja.

Later that afternoon, the boss decided to take us out for a drink. Ugh. I hate having drinks with the boss. I am notorious for talking too much when I drink, and it's always the balancing act to remain professional while cocktailing. So what does a girl do when trying to escape libations with the man? Take a pumping break!

I took pumping to a new low as I escaped into the dirty bar bathroom. Nothing makes you feel further from your 20s than reading bar bathroom graffiti while expressing breast milk. Call Gina for a good time? Be careful, Miss Gina. A good time gets you a baby and eventually you may find yourself lactating in a bar.

I want to know! Where is the weirdest place you ever had to pump?