2 Pk Cover In Style Nursing Covers - 3 Options

by wootbot

For The Love Of Lunch

And you were so hoping to save this story for the afternoon talk show circuit...

Oh, crap. Larry from accounting just spotted you putting up your lunch tent in the parking lot. If only you hadn’t skipped breakfast this morning, maybe you could’ve made it to the park like you normally do. Maybe if you just give him a polite wave …

Nope, he’s coming over. Curses. This is going to be awkward.

“Uh, hey, buddy,” he says eyeing the tent, then looking back up at you. “Whatcha doing?”

Stop sweating. Don’t be nervous. You’ve planned for this. Simply tell him you’re just testing out some gear before your big trip into the mountains this weekend. You’ll be fi…

“JUST GETTING READY TO EAT A LITTLE LUNCH IS THERE ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT WHAT ARE YOU THE LUNCH POLICE?” The words come hurling from your mouth like a guided missile aimed directly at Larry’s Weirdo-Meter. Now you’re shaking, red-faced, holding an unfinished tent in one hand and your brown bag lunch in the other. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You shouldn’t have to suffer this much just to enjoy a salami sandwich. But after thirty-five years of hiding your little secret, you were bound to make a mistake sometime.

So when Larry takes a step back and asks if you are okay, assure him that you are, in fact, not okay and haven’t been for a long time. Just drop to your knees and attempt to tell him the whole story through the tears that stream down your face. Tell him about when you were young, VERY young, just an infant, and how your mother would take you to the park to feed you. Tell him about the nursing cover she would use that used to make you feel so warm and safe as you nursed. Tell him all about the Patented Rigiflex neckline that allowed for uninterrupted eye contact and bonding between you and your mom, and the matching interior cloth pocket she used to store your pacifier. Remember how good it felt to be under that generously-sized 100% cotton cover? Remember how you would eat all your meals under your bedsheets when you got too old to be nursed? Remember having to pay the janitor at school to keep a tent in the boiler room just so you could eat comfortably? Tell him all of that, too.

After a few minutes of silent tears, you feel Larry’s arm around your shoulder. “It’s okay, friend,” he says, pointing to his car. “I know how you feel.” When you look over, you see that all the back windows of his station wagon are covered in machine-washable and dryer-friendly fabric, just like the nursing cover you remember from infancy.

“Come on," he says. "Let’s do lunch.”