Boobs, boobs, and more boobs.

And, no, I'm not talking about partners in law firms. I'm talking about the ones that we women have attached to our chest. They've been the talk of the feminist blogosphere lately as a result of this magazine cover and the harsh critical reaction that it elicited from a bunch of prudes with no sense of comfort with their own bodies or with one of the inherent functions of boobs (hat tip: Pandagon):

God forbid that the curve of a woman's bare breast be featured on a magazine cover. It's not like we haven't seen that before on any random men's magazine cover each and every month.

But I loved the take on this issue from Pharyngula, wherein he posited that perhaps those opposed to the cover would prefer to see this photo of his bare chest on their coffee tables instead:

Oh, yeah baby! That's the stuff!

And, as for breastfeeding and our culture's hang ups, don't even get me started. What am I supposed to do when my kid has to nurse and I happen to be in a public place--erect a tent in order to avoid putting those around me who can't comprehend the basic purpose of breasts at ease?

And, pumping at the office? Fahgeddaboudit! How many of you have pumped at the office? Anyone? How about any litigators? Can I tell you what a nightmare it is when you have an all day deposition in another firm's office and your boobs become so engorged, you can hardly stand it? What are your options? Pump in their public rest room during the 1/2 hour lunch break? And how about trials? Yeah right. Not happening.

I managed, but just barely. How did I do it, you ask? I have 5 words for you: Medula Pump in Style Breastpump. It cost as much as a small island, but let me tell you--it was worth its weight in gold!