I recently took part in a show called "I'm Sorry But..."
Bee in My Beanie Theatre company wanted submissions from women who were angry about something, it was a chance to unapologetically express anger. I submitted a piece and was delighted to be able to perform it last month alongside other brilliant women.
I wanted to share it with you all.
It is something I am so passionate about and increasingly find it difficult to keep bottled up, so I'm allowing myself to unleash the anger for you all to enjoy...
D’ya know what? I think I discovered where the phrase “crying over spilt milk” came from.
I was sitting on my stain encrusted brown sofa whilst the dog and my new born baby snoozed gently, minding their own business, totally content; full tummies; recently winded (yes both of them) whilst I frantically tried to attach the damn breast pump to my aching tit whilst simultaneously trying to tie the handles of the nappy bag into a knot to restrain the acrid poo smell escaping from it.
Finally, I began pumping. For those of you who have never experienced the sensation of breast feeding, I’ll tell you something now: the suction power is phenomenal. How I still have nipples attached to my breasts is beyond me. There were numerous times when I thought they had been sucked off, either from my baby’s tiny innocent looking mouth or the delightful cup of the breast pump.
Anyway, I discovered that the hand-held breast pump worked best for me, the electric one made a strange noise, like a person who was struggling for breath was sitting in the corner of the room with me, and I couldn’t have felt more like a dairy cow if I tried, so the hand held one it was.
I pumped as Jeremy Kyle kept me company, I watched the toothless guests argue over who had stolen grandmas precious tea cup or something, carefully ensuring the volume was so low it may as well have been on mute, so the baby didn’t get used to the sound of constant arguing and shouting.
After what felt like eternity, I finally stopped pumping I looked at the miracle juice that had left my nipple, a whole 5 oz of this precious white liquid, all that effort for just 5oz, really? Wow, that was enough to cry about there and then. I didn’t though. I carefully put my tommee tippee bottle with my 5 precious ounces in it down so I could restore a little dignity and put my now deflated-balloon breast back into its nesting place of my maternity bra. Before I knew it, I had kicked the bottle over. Yes a whole 5 oz was gone. The dog appreciated it. I did not. I cried. Yes, I cried over split milk. As the tears silently rolled down my cheek, I chuckled slightly to myself as I was sure I had just discovered the origins that saying.
So, as you may have guessed, I am a mum. I breast fed my babies. I am very proud that my boobs worked and fulfilled their duty accordingly.
However, light bulb moment, in order to produce milk, a mother must have to give birth to a baby.
And then I became a vegan.
Yes ladies and gentleman, I am proud to declare, I do not wish to consume breast milk from anything. Oh and some of you have already rolled your eyes now. You’re tutting already; “Here we go, another one of these tree hugging, nature loving, righteous hippies”. Don’t get me wrong, I do love nature, maybe I am a little hippie-esque but I have yet to hug a tree – I’m not ruling it out though.
I kinda think of veganism as the ultimate feminism. Oooh look, even more eyes rolling at that! A feminist and a vegan!
It doesn’t mean I hate all men and all people who are not vegans. It just means I want equality and an end to unnecessary suffering.
Humans are so f*cking selfish and hypocritical. Society judges human mothers who continue to give their children human breast milk, yet it is condoned and seen as normal to feed them breast milk intended for cows?! Where is the logic?
“I love animals but I also love steak”.
“I believe in animal rights, what they did to that cat was terrible and I am glad they got a 3 month prison sentence, now are you gonna have the burger or the lamb?”
As a woman, a mother, a person who cried over her own spilt milk, I am angry that society is ok with living things being forced through the gratuitous torment of pregnancy, giving birth, milking, and all for reasons other than the one nature intended. The poor mother doesn’t even get the opportunity to raise and feed her own baby!
Society needs to wake up, stop ignoring the truth and discontinue unnecessary and damaging processes because “it tastes nice in coffee”.