Just when you thought having a child couldn’t ruin your life any more, then they go and ruin breasts. Boobs. Beautiful love sacks gifted to woman, and cherished by man. The most pure and special thing put on this green earth.

Perhaps I should explain… every Tuesday night for the last few weeks I have been going to anti-natal classes with my now 30 weeks pregnant wife. At two and a half hours at a time, they’re a hard slog. This week they decide it’s time to learn about breast feeding.

Suddenly I’m awake and alert as the midwife pops in the video. What follows is shot, after shot, after shot of boobs. Sounds great I know, except they’re all being used to feed babies.

“That’s what you would expect on a breastfeeding video, you flamin’ moron,” I head your scream at your computer screens…. you know you should go to anger management. But yes. That’s what breast feeding is, I’m not an idiot. However after seeing your twentieth breast being used solely to feed and nurture a small parasitic child, the magic is gone.

Maybe this is premature. Maybe it’s just because it’s so fresh in my mind, but I have never been disinterested in boobs in my entire life. I don’t feel like or dislike. I feel nothing.

Zip.

Zero.

Nada.

They’re simply there to help keep your grocery bill down when you have a newborn and that’s not right. A man not loving boobs, is like cats loving dogs, and that’s just not right.

They say having a child changes your life, but this…. this is soul destroying.