Dear Breast Pump,
Hey, it’s Melissa.
I know I’ve made it pretty clear how much I have despised our time together, and now as it comes to and end I want you to know its not you its….no. It’s you. You’re the worst.
I remember using those microwaveable breast pump cleaning bags and melting all of the parts together on accident and thinking “F— you, breast pump.”
Then, I went to target and spent an insanely large amount of money in replacement parts. Like, all I needed was tubing but the tubes apparently aren’t sold separately and I place the blame directly onto my breast pump for being manufacture by a company who wants to bleed my wallet dry.
I’m not sorry for refusing to bring you home on the weekends because looking at you instantly kills my mood. I have never felt so strongly about an inanimate object before, but it’s well deserved. You suck. Literally.
I’m going to keep breastfeeding when I’m home, but this relationship is over.