Bufelda wants to be sure:
“Forgive me if I misunderstand– it seems you don’t like the idea of breastfeeding in public period, covered or not.”
No, that’s correct, I don’t. Actually, it has nothing to do with breasts, it’s got more to do with the noise of the little guy or gal snorting and smacking away and the woman’s understandable distraction. You see, in addition to my dedication to refraining from public defecation, I wouldn’t check my email at the dinner table either. Although sometimes I’d almost consider murder to be able to just pull out a book and ignore the blather….
The reason I compared breastfeeding with gastroenteric distress is that in both cases, there’s only two kinds of people. Those who are discreet enough to remove themselves from the vicinity and those who can’t be bothered.
I’m somewhat curious as to what a disgusted reaction to such distress is supposed to be covering, just to take ant’s (or was it jarek’s) assertion of transference and psychological sickness a logical step further.
The whole discussion – not to mention the fervor – has been interesting since the thing that really, truly set me off wasn’t the breastfeeding, but the thoughtful sharing of grisly childbirth details during the meat course. That pretty much ended my dinner that night.