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My client was angry!

They were angry because they felt that service was not up to standard.

Their company CEO was due to visit the event.  He was bringing the Deputy President and some other important people.

Shit was happening.

So, I did the right thing.  I swopped my high heels for flats and literally RAN around with the team trying to fix a couple of things.

Hours went by.  I was still running.

I did not eat breakfast.  That was fine.

I did not make it to wee when I needed to.  That was fine too.

Lunch came and went.

But gosh, by 3pm, my body said STOP.

I had a little baby at home and when I couldn’t nurse, I needed to remember to express. Express? Oh crap!  That small matter of sitting still for 15 minutes to get milk out of my breasts.  Yes, that!

I felt like I was about to burst.  I had to sit down.

So, I ran to my car, got all the shit I needed and went to find a secluded spot.  A nice, dark corner on a stage, behind a curtain where no one would find me.

I unbuttoned my shirt.  God, I had no time!   I just removed the whole damn thing and sat there topless.  Breaaaaaaathing and getting ready.

As the pump started, I felt so happy!  The relief and release of hormones was magical.

But then I heard voices.

They kept saying “What’s that sound?”

The pump kept going.  Djooom Djoooom  Djooom. 

I peeked out behind the curtain.  God! It was the CEO of the angry client!  He was waiting with his entourage for the important delegation.  I literally could not escape.  There was no way.

That’s when I heard an angel’s voice. 

Some daft person said “Oh! That’s just the aircon.  They’re getting a technician to fix it”.

Hallllleuia!  Saved by a moron!

I continued to pump, continued to giggle and continued to enjoy the surge of endorphins only a nursing mother knows about.  Nature’s drugs filled my veins and I have lived to tell the tale.

And in celebration of Women’s Day in a month, allow me to remind you Goddesses that we are life!  We are the incubators of God’s breath.  We are miracles.   We are powerful beyond our knowledge.

We have boobs and we know how to use them.

Let’s celebrate that together, we are magic.

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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