Things You Can & Can’t Wear When Breastfeeding

DISCLAIMER: I am incredibly grateful I am that I can breastfeed and that I have a good supply. It saves us SO.MUCH.MONEY! However, that good supply can make things as simple as going out in public a hassle. Finding outfits that make you feel like less of a lump when postpartum is difficult enough, but adding in breast accessibility creates a whole new challenge. So, here we go with things you can’t wear when breastfeeding.


Things you can’t wear when breastfeeding


white tee

One would think that the classic white tee would be an easy go-to, but one would be fucking wrong.  If you leak through, it looks like a very specific wet t-shirt contest and dries into hard, off-colored spots. And every time you look at your baby or hear a baby crying at the store, you will feel the familiar and uncomfortable pressure of a let down.



black tee

Refer to #1, just in black, and way worse. You will have white orbs over your nipples no matter how many breast pads you put in to prevent leakage.






anything tucked

You know the cute “in” style right now with a tee tucked into your jeans/shorts/skirt/wtf-ever. This will not happen because there is absolutely zero ways to look cute and put together when feeding. You are trying to get the fussy baby to stop wiggling and onto your tit without drooling milk all down your shirt and/or belly.



gray anything

No. No we dont. Gray is the worst of all the neutral colors. The second it gets wet (and it always does) you can see it from a mile away. And when it dries into a crust, it still looks wet. There is no winning with gray. Stay away from gray.



crew neck tees

The crew neck makes it impossible to whip out your tit from the top so you have to pull the whole shirt up, offending the world with boobs that have a purpose and a flabby belly yet to be toned (I’m getting to it, okay?)



high necklines

Yeah, keep dreaming sunshine. There is absolutely zero boob access and since you have now become a milk maid, you no longer get to worry about “cute.”






Not gonna happen, girlfrannn. Even going from the smallest of boobs (like my perky lil 32As from before) your boobs will now be far too large to wear these enhancing stripes. Your boobs will be enormous, (like my now 36 DDs. What the fuck, man?)




These are too adorable. No doubt. But bring some duct tape or cable ties because no way is that little bit of lace going to hold in these engorged puppies. And these look far less cute with pads shoved in to try your best to prevent the dreaded leaking.



bras in general

The boulder holder you used to love because it perked you up so nicely will likely no longer fit and will be burdensome. You either have to pull it up over your boob and get squeezed by the underwire or pull the strap off and tuck the cup under your boob to get wet and misshapen.


things you can wear when breastfeeding



I swear, its like every color, shape, material I try there is some downside to it. If you want the easiest of the hard, stick to:


These will give you the best access for a tee. Just make sure it is loose enough to where you wont be able to tell the neckline is stretched out and have something to wear over it because no matter the color, you will have leak spots somewhere.


button downs

You can decide your level of access and can layer to make yourself look presentable. There are tons of styles, patterns and colors.



athletic wear

You can get away with looking a mess because people will think you just worked out (and there is no problem with not correcting them.) There are zips and pockets and the fabric sucks everything in just right. Plus, the special water-wicking-dry-fit-rain-x style bullshit helps leaks from looking too leaky. It spreads it around more and makes it a bit less noticeable.




and finally,


the Mom bun

This is a fucking staple. You can wear it everyday without worry. Throw some dry shampoo in that bitch and call it an “updo.”







So next time you step out, don’t worry about what you wear because you are fucked regardless. Breastfeeding is great, now make the hubs do it and he will finally understand the hour to get ready and the meltdowns.


The Mall Allure as a Mom


The mall has been there for me through many phases in my life. It has marked my journey through womanhood and tracked my stages in life. But it seems so different now, as a mother.

In middle school, it was the first place I was able to go solo with friends. We would get Starbucks frappuccinos (with minimal coffee taste,) browse the aisles, try on clothes, and buy the cheapest sample or best clearance item just so we could have bags on our arms. In high school, it was my happy place. I was always an introvert and on those trying days I would head to my favorite mall by myself and my nanny-fund for some serious retail therapy and my favorite food. Then my later teen years where I skipped school with friends and almost got arrested for shoplifting… but I am insanely NOT proud of those times. In my early college days, it was somewhere I never was but always wanted to be to escape the harsh realities of the impending doom that was adulthood. I realized quickly between work, classes, and my boyfriend’s unwillingness to go that I didn’t have the time or money to even step foot in the mall, as much as I craved it. And now, as a mom to a toddler and pregnant with another, somewhere I think of as a memory of days past. Somewhere I can’t afford or wish to be with a toddler in tow. Those soft pretzels though…

So when another one of my mom friends uploaded a new selfie the other day in this adorable lacey, tank top, bralette thingy, I asked her about it. She told me it was from Abercrombie & Fitch and honestly, I rolled my eyes a bit. All I could think about was the price tag for the tiny amount of clothing, the overloud music, the signature cologne overwhelming the air even two stores down, and the perfect little model sales girls that were super nice making them even more intimidating. She sent me the link anyway and let me know it was on sale for only $7! I was shocked and SOLD! I rarely buy anything for myself, especially now when nothing fits my 8 month belly and we are saving for the new baby, but I said screw it and got two.

I set up ship-to-store to save 5 bucks shipping, because I am forever thrifty (and cheap as hell) and waited for its arrival email. In no time at all, the email came to pick it up and I headed to the mall, without toddler and extremely pregnant, but super excited with a twinge of nervous fear. What would it be like seeing those perfect little 00s or even worse the perfectly douchey and chiseled male models… But on I went.

I parked by the Dillard’s, like I always had, and walked through those doors to the smell of “mall.” I know you know the smell when I say that but I had forgotten all about it and it took me back. I felt like a teen girl again, that’s until I literally walked into one of those stupid display table they have in the middle of the aisle, and I felt my age and size again… I got to the A&F and prepared myself mentally to walk in, thinking how silly I was for being nervous, but almost trembling all the same. I wasn’t greeted by anyone and actually had to seek out a sales girl and to my surprise, while beautiful, she was totally normal and easy to talk to. I gave her my info and she disappeared to the back to get my order.

I walked around the store to see such a change. They had swapped the mens/womens to opposite sides of the store and the entire back section was now abercrombie kids. It was full of 4T jeans at the price tag of $54 and t-shirts with huge moose logos for $25. My “mom of toddler” mode switched on and I found it almost humorous. I looked around and noticed there was much more lighting, less plants in your face and while it still smelled delicious, I had feeling left in my nostrils. I realized how silly I was to be so intimidated by this store and how my mom must have felt every time I dragged her in and tried to guilt her into an extremely overpriced purchase. And I immediately wanted to simultaneously apologize for the times I gave her attitude for not buying me $75 jeans at 12 years old and thank her for not killing me for said attitude and instead spoiling me with a pair at Christmas (only to outgrow them in a few months and hand them down to my baby cousin.)


I was late to pick up my kid so as soon as I got my order, I raced back out to my car, wishing I could spend more time exploring the place that I had spent so much time growing up. I felt like I was visiting an old home, but that I didn’t belong there. I think I would still go to all the same teen stores with their comforting feelings and smaller price tags that I was used to, not the adult lingerie or business casual stores that I always thought I would as a mom. I felt the nostalgia wash over me and while I realize it isn’t somewhere I want to go shop on the regular, a nice afternoon out sounds nice to just stroll and sip. After all, I can find some killer Banana Republic and J. Crew deals at the Goodwill 2 blocks away.

Long story short, the “adorable lacey, tank top, bralette thingy” are far too small for the belly and have snaps like a onesie at the bottom, which my boyfriend quickly pointed out, taking away all sex appeal. Thanks, babe.





As I get older I feel like the people around me have less of a filter. Maybe because they are getting older as well and clearly don’t give a fuck? Or maybe I am more aware of what is appropriate and what isn’t. Either way, I feel like daily, someone makes some statement or asks some question that I am like “Did you just freaking say that?!”

One of the main topics people like to discuss with me is my pregnancies. Me getting pregnant so much and just overall child bearing. Like, ya know, because I am the only human being on the planet that has ever had 3 kids. But whether you have 3 or god forbid zero kids, why do people find the need to freaking ask about it! What a touchy subject for some people, ya know. It should just be known to never, ever, ever under any circumstances to ask a female when she is going to have kids. I know too many women who are trying like hell to get pregnant and aren’t. So don’t bring it up. Leave them in peace. Let them have this one conversation where they aren’t thinking about their uterus as you talk. Trust me they are thinking about it every other second.

As for the women who you feel like have “too” many babies, leave their asses alone too. Look, I know I have more than the average two. AND YES I KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED!!!!! When people joke with me like “You know how you keep getting pregnant, right???” I actually want to punch them in the face. I swear, the next person who says that to me, I will reply. “Why yes, I do know how. We were laying in our bed one night and my husband put his penis inside of my vagina and ejaculated. Then his sperm met my egg, hence beginning pregnancy.” Like fuck. Of course I know how this shit happened, your question is not funny and I kinda hate you.

People just need to know when to joke and when to shut up. I get a lot of jokes coming my way now about me getting pregnant again. God forbid I don’t feel well….man, people just love that. It is the perfect ammo. But like if we wanted another one and couldn’t? Or like what if I did get pregnant again, how devastating it would be? I don’t know. I feel like this happens to Matt on a much smaller scale than me. And probably because I am a women and that is just how shit works. We get asked the lame questions.

Just watch what you say and be cautious of who you say it too. You never know the battle or the struggle or just the plain fucking irritation.

Kinky Wife=Happy Life


So as some of you read in my many posts, Matt and I are taking a sexual vacation. Like not a full on no fooling around, but no, well how do I say this in a non vulgar way….no final finish. Well, yes there is a final finish but not in the traditional way most couple do. I am so close to getting these tubes burned off and I know, I just know that we will have some sort of accident due to our track record. And although I deeply love my children, three is plenty. So thanks to our American laws, I have a waiting period to make sure I am really ready for this, and due to my body rejecting birth control and his super sperm….well we are back to dry humping.

But listen, not just sticking it in and getting off has made our sex life that much better. I am not one to complain about sex. One thing I realized quickly after meeting my husband was our sexual compatabilty. He likes it just as much as I do and knows how important it is in a relationship. Suprisingly, not everyone feels that way. Some people can go weeks, months, years without it and be fine. But when I am in a relationship, I have always expected it. Like, that is one of the major benefits of being in a relationship….you get laid!!!! But sex isn’t everyone’s top 3 priorities when commited. It is for both of us. It separates our relationship from our relationship with others, it keeps us close and it is the one thing that we ONLY share with EACH OTHER. As cheesy as it sounds, that shit is special.

So after awhile sex can become the same routine. You know what the other likes, how to get them off, what makes the final finish happen. But we have taken that away from each other until I am sterile and man has it been INCREDIBLE. Like we are like high schoolers….dry humping and all!! You forget how excited you can get. You forget how sweet it can be. You forget body parts that can tingle. I swear, we are kinkier and freakier than ever and penetration is not the focus! I am sure it will get old soon, but for right now I am enjoying the crap out of it. I can honestly say, even though our sex life since marriage has been in full swing, it has even gotten better.

So I am urging all of you to be teenagers in between the sheets for a bit. Although it is no 50 Shades of Grey, it is a fucking blast. No worries of babies either! Lord knows that makes shit all the more exciting for this Shitty Housewife.

Top 5…We All Have One


So Matt and I talk all the time about cheating. Not like on each other, although we have discussed that subject several times. Sadly, we live in a world where sex is shoved in our faces and technology has made sex available to us at any given moment. If him and I were to want to cheat we both easily could. ANYONE can. But what it comes down to is, would we actually do it? I FREAKING HOPE NOT. Life in this perfect house would be ruined and I would spend the rest of my life crying like a little bitch.

Anyway, while talking about hooking up with strangers, the topic of Top 5 has been brought up. Now, let me just fill you in a bit on my husband….he is not tuned in to famous people like I am. He says things like, that hot chick from That 70’s Show or Kristen Fox/Cathy Fox/Samantha Fox (he means Megan Fox.) Where as I am so tuned in it is kinda pathetic. He doesn’t have a clear cut list, but you know I do. 5 men, who if ever approached me, I could have sex with for a night with zero repercussions to my marriage. My list used to changed all the time. As I get older, these men have held their positions….pun intended. So as I was thinking about my list, I was wondering….who is on my readers list???? I will share mine, if you share yours. Here is goes

#5 Paul Rudd…Funny is sexy and this funny mother fucker is more than sexy. I would love to spend a few hours with him while I laugh and climax. He is so freaking hot, I can not stand it.



#4 Paul Banks….Oh more than swoon….For those of you who don’t know who he is, he is the lead singer for the band Interpol. His voice lights my loins on fire. Like I have a lady boner thinking about it right now. Yeah, he may not be a head turner to everyone, but he makes me feel butterflies all over. Interpol_take_paul_600

#3 Henry Cavill….Most of you will know him from Superman. I just know him from being FUCKING HOT. The first time I saw him was in The Tudors, which I hated and watched on mute just so I could see this dreamboat. He is amazing….like beyond amazing.


#2 Jamie Dornan…I don’t care if all of you hard core Christian Grey fans don’t agree, Jamie is perfection. Yeah, maybe he isn’t the Christian you fantasized about, but he is the Jamie I jerk off too. Jesus, this guy, like could he get any sexier. He used to model, now acts AND has an Irish accent, like come to me Jamie….please.


#1…Justin Timberlake…”Cause all I need is a moment alone/To give you my tongue/And put you out of control” Really, need I say more??

justin timberlake the 20-20 experience mirrors suit tie

Welp, that’s it. The sexy men I am allowed to screw if given the chance. The liklihood of me being in this situation ever is very, very, very low, but hey, it’s a fun conversation. Your turn…..





So, have you ever had something to say but no platform to say it???? Well here is your chance. I am looking for guest writers….but guess what?? You don’t have to be a writer. Just a person with an idea, a soapbox, a suggestions, a shitty or not so shitty thought. We welcome any and all people who have something to say. You can write about life, politics, sex, drugs, fuck, you can write about anything!! We don’t discriminate here at The Shitty Housewife and love to hear new thoughts. So come on team, send that shit my way. I will take it!!! Submit your articles to [email protected]


The Shitty Housewife

“Experts Shmexperts”


And why not listening to them doesn’t make you shitty.

I want to start by saying that I truly do appreciate and respect all the medical professionals and other “experts” in my life. I take great comfort in knowing I have a nurse’s hotline to call, doctors available for my babies’ needs, and other “rock star” mom friends I can call when I need advice. That being said, the most important expert in your child’s life, is you, sweet mama, and nothing anyone says trumps what you know about your own little person. I think that sometimes we don’t always put as much value and trust in our “mama gut instincts” and default to someone who “knows better” than we do. Well I’m here to tell you, that shit just isn’t true!!!

My mom gave me an invaluable piece of advice right after I had my first baby and she said, “Sweetie, no matter what anyone tells you. Always trust your ‘momsense”. I really had no idea what that meant until I started getting into situations where “experts” were trying to tell me what I should be doing. These things didn’t always align with what I wanted or felt was best and stubborn and strong willed as I am, with hormones raging and emotions through the roof, I began to question my “momsense”.

For example, during the first few days with my daughter in the hospital, nurses told me, “Don’t let your baby sleep too long on you; or she won’t sleep in a crib.” When actually, feeling her sweet little body snuggled up on mine was probably the most “right” thing that I had ever felt in my life. I can’t count the number of times I heard “seasoned” mothers say, “If you sleep in bed with your baby they will never sleep in bed by themselves.” I absolutely fell asleep in our guest bed with my daughter during nighttime feeding sessions more times than I can count, and guess what? My now 3 year old sleeps every night in her toddler bed without any problems at all! And I have cherished memories of waking up and seeing her angel face fast asleep.

When my second baby was born, his blood sugar was low, when they did those “first few moments of life tests”. So, they gave him a bottle of formula. Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with formula if you have chosen that route for you and your baby, but for me breastfeeding is my path; and I am fairly passionate about that. The nurses told me that I was welcome to pump some breastmilk if I wanted, but that because he was only hours old my body most likely would not be able to produce enough to keep his blood sugar where they wanted it to be. They strongly suggested I just go ahead with formula for the first 24 hours. I had felt my milk come in and historically had never had any issues in the milk production department and so when I smugly handed over 4 ounces that I had hand expressed, they were in shock. They used what I pumped to feed him and he was nursing within the next couple hours. Looking back do I blame them? Absolutely not, they were doing what they thought was right based on their experiences and the past situations they had been in. They didn’t know me or what my body could do and if I hadn’t been as vocal as I was about my wants, then how were they to know?

Are we going to know what to do all the time? Are you kidding? Raising children is at times like trying to make it through a maze blindfolded and hammered. We do need “experts” in our life to help guide and encourage us along. But, at the end of the day, you don’t have to be a doctor or have been a mom for a decade to know exactly what that precious babe needs. It’s okay to voice your opinion and *gasp* go against what an expert or doctor has to say. Only you know that the pitiful wail coming out of your baby means that she has an ear infection; or the glint in your toddler’s eye that means you have about 3.2 minutes to get out of the grocery store before a meltdown ensues. You know your child more deeply than anyone in the world, and that makes you the most important expert they have!

Contributing Writer

Ellen Mason

Wife explains how she is a Shitty Housewife


I’ll be the first to admit I’m the mean one in the relationship. I’ve always been blunt and outspoken. Especially to when it comes to what I want in a relationship. But, you know, you apparently can teach an old dog new things, like trust.

I’ve been with my husband for 6 years, married for 1 1/2 & I STILL struggle with trust. I’ve always been cheated on before in previous relationships and so I assumed this one would be no different. But it has been. It took my husband about 5 out of those 6 years to win that trust. I always thought when we weren’t together he must be screwing around. Little did I know I was with the sweetest, most genuine man on the planet. Always doing his very best to cater to my needs.

A couple months ago I lost my job. I got my ass fired. My bluntness and being outspoken bit me in my big ass. At first there was relief because I really couldn’t do the best at the place I was at anymore.

Then the panic set in. The sheer holy-shit-what-have-I-done panic. We were never going to make bills. We were going to have to move in with my mom. Panic. I cried for days. I’ve never been in such a deep depression. So I tried to think of what I could do to help out. OH! I can clean the house and make it beautiful and start fixing things up around here. That’s what I can do to help my husband. I can be the best wife I can be while being unemployed (while working little side jobs for a bit of money and looking like crazy for jobs.)

:Enter shitty housewife here:

Although I help my friend’s mom cleaning houses sometimes (and actually do very well with her!) I, apparently, cannot muster up the motivation to do my own. I can see that the bathroom needs a good scrub but actually going to do it is the worst idea I’ve ever heard of. Ever. How do two people make a bathroom so dusty? And all the hair? Sheesh. (Totally my fault, of course.)

It’s now been 3 1/2 months of unemployment and I’m STILL looking for a job. I never knew it would be this hard! I’m still struggling to keep a clean house. I’m still struggling to keep up my end of the bills. But as a old dog I’ve learned many things in the past few months. Who knew that could happen? I’ve learned that marriage is a team. Yes I knew this going into it but I’ve always thought of it as 50/50. But when your partner doesn’t have their 50, you put in more. My husband has been running on a solid 75/25 for a few months now. Not only does he work all day (too much in my opinion) but then he comes home to help me with the chores I haven’t 100% completed AND then makes dinner. (I knew I married a chef for a reason) All the while keeping my spirits up and thanking me for the measly few chores I did get accomplished. Lord help us when we have children. I’ll really have to start learning to be a better housewife. Until then I’ll work on going from shitty to crappy to fine to decently okay and so on.

Guess I better go tackle that damn bathroom…wish me luck.

Jenni Newton

The Day I Gave Up Wife-ing

AliciaBy Alicia Charboneau

What does it mean to be “wifey” these days? What happens when you get stuck between the advice your mom gave you when you got married and lost in your own idea of what it means to be a wife? Well, for me it collided into a shit storm of whatever statement this is:

“I can’t wife. I seriously didn’t sign up for this shit. I mean, I know I said vows and shit, but seriously, something has to change. I just feel like we should just change the label to “person who does a bunch of random shit at dinner, somehow producing us all food, because I mean, I was going to eat anyway.”

Before we all get into what kind of marriage I have and start gossiping about how my husband must suck and I can’t seem to get my life together, think about what kind of day and age we live in. We’re stuck between the labels of wives past and the aspirations of wives present. Some of us are wifey. Some of us domestic partners. Some of us best friends who just got married. Some of us give 190% at wife-ing, complete with the steak dinner and b.j for dessert and some of us sling spam sandwiches and grumble before sinking into the couch to catch up on the latest crap on Netflix. I’m not one or the either. I’m a middle ground wifey who on that particular day had a wife identity crisis. So what happened after I said that? Nothing. I took a deep breath and carried on. Wife-ing. My husband went back to whatever husband thing he was doing and an awkward silence crept up. He didn’t want to encroach after I had just had the equivalent of a two-year-old fit out of my mouth and I couldn’t believe the words that fell out randomly while making dinner. But they did. And it was because I was overwhelmed, tired and hungry.

So what do you do when you don’t want to wife but you enjoyed getting married and want whatever that means but you seriously can’t deal with this having-to-make-dinner-every-night-shit?

What do you do when you’re seriously fed up with dishes, and babies, and laundry and picking up and planning? OH THE PLANNING OF EVERYTHING. Not to mention the family outings, seasonal shit that somehow is only our responsibility and OHMYGOD apparently it’s too much to ask anyone to PICK UP THEIR OWN SHIT.

What do you do?

Shhh. It’s a secret. Lean in real close… Closer… Ok good. I’ll tell you what you do. You take a deep breath and rub your eyes. THEN you tell your husband that apparently that’s how you feel. You don’t apologize. You explain that you feel like the roles have taken over the marriage and something should change. You look him dead in his eyes and say,

“ssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttt. I’m soooooooo tired.” Make sure you breathe it out like a huge sigh of relief too. Finish it up with “I think if you just helped out more maybe I could breathe. It’s just starting to suck and I married you and I don’t want it to suck. How could we not suck?”

And no guarantees, but maybe he’ll respond similarly to mine. His response was,

“I guess we can be like, what like… gay people do… domestic partners that is. I mean, what is the clear definition of a ‘wife’s duties’ anyway? Like baking and shit. You’ve never really been good at that anyway. What’s giving up a few of those things for your sanity?”

So. That’s the story on how I gave up my wife title. At most I am a medium wife. As in that statement is a verb statement. Idk if that is even a thing because I am only so so at writing. Let’s add it to the list of other things I am mediocre at. Maybe we all should just cash the wife thing in, because really… what’s a “wife” anyway?

Why I Finally Stopped Feeling Insecure After Becoming A Mother

Dejan Ristovski

Photo by Dejan Ristovski

Y’all… Nicole Anderson, one of our writers and graphic designer, was just featured on Elite Daily online magazine. Go read her Elite Daily article here and let us know what you think!

As she got older, I started seeing aspects about her that seemed even more familiar. I finally realized I had seen these features in the mirror and my first instinct was panic. I have spent all of my life hating so many things about myself, that I didn’t want her to have to deal with these same issues.