I like the title on this-- "La Lecher League" instead of La Leche League. That made me laugh.
I remember when I was pregnant with my first baby that the president of the local La Leche League kept calling me and inviting me to join their group. I planned to, and did, breastfeed my babies, but I didn't think it was necessary for me to join their club and proclaim it to the world that breastfeeding was better than the bottle. I thought that decision should be up to each individual mother. Breastfeeding was a private activity for me not a public statement I needed to make.
I think this part killed me the most : With as much haste as I could muster I hobbled into the shower and applied cooling water to the conflagration in my crotch, which only served to spread the napalm to my perineum. I am not a church-going man but as I felt the flaming horror trickle across that tender inch of no-man's land, I confess that I prayed aloud to Jesus and his host of angels that the advancing agony would not stray into my buttonhole. However, my prayers went unheeded, and as I felt the liquid inferno sizzle its way into my most private of eyes, I lost consciousness, but not before grabbing the shower curtain and collapsing, in a disturbing echo of that famous scene from Hitchcock's "Psycho". Although believe me, being hacked to death by Norman Bates in a dress would have been a walk in the park compared to the searing agony I endured that fateful day.
This mug shot is killing me!!
ReplyDeleteEW.
ReplyDeleteI like the title on this-- "La Lecher League" instead of La Leche League. That made me laugh.
ReplyDeleteI remember when I was pregnant with my first baby that the president of the local La Leche League kept calling me and inviting me to join their group. I planned to, and did, breastfeed my babies, but I didn't think it was necessary for me to join their club and proclaim it to the world that breastfeeding was better than the bottle. I thought that decision should be up to each individual mother. Breastfeeding was a private activity for me not a public statement I needed to make.
Sickos
ReplyDeleteI think this part killed me the most :
ReplyDeleteWith as much haste as I could muster I hobbled into the shower and applied cooling water to the conflagration in my crotch, which only served to spread the napalm to my perineum. I am not a church-going man but as I felt the flaming horror trickle across that tender inch of no-man's land, I confess that I prayed aloud to Jesus and his host of angels that the advancing agony would not stray into my buttonhole. However, my prayers went unheeded, and as I felt the liquid inferno sizzle its way into my most private of eyes, I lost consciousness, but not before grabbing the shower curtain and collapsing, in a disturbing echo of that famous scene from Hitchcock's "Psycho". Although believe me, being hacked to death by Norman Bates in a dress would have been a walk in the park compared to the searing agony I endured that fateful day.