get off my boobs b*tch

I have decided that I am over breast-feeding. As much as it was a loving, bonding, special thing to do, it is now time to end it and regain my body for me. But the girl won't have any of it - oh no, she is not going to let go that easily.

It's not that she hasn't drunk from a bottle before. In fact, a month back I had her drinking from a bottle quite well. My husband put her to bed one night and my mum did the next - it was heaven! But then she got gastro and the only thing she would eat or drink is breast-milk. In my desperation, I got the boobs out to save her from dehydration. That was my mistake.

Now the sight of a bottle or cup heading her way sends her into fits of screaming fury.

"You tricked me once, b*tch, it wont happen again" seems to be the message in her loud baby shrieks. She worms, she squirms but the biggest weapon she has is that she just wont sleep without a drink from my breasts. And I give in each time, because I am desperate for rest. And she wins again.

I probably could have fed and educated a starving African child with the money I have spent on different bottles, teats, sippy cups and formulas in an attempt to find the combination that will get some formula into her belly. Last night I spiked her formula with Quik (who can refuse choc-milk?) but to no avail. Yep, dipped the teat in honey (all the things they tell you not to do) but she is smarter than that!

How can a nine-month-old constantly outwit and outplay a relatively intelligent 30-year-old.

I spent most of my life wanting bigger boobs, but now all I want is to go back to my little b-cups which fit into my nice tops. I want to wear tops that aren't strategically chosen for their ability to lift up discreetly and easily.

Yes, breastfeeding is wonderful, but like a nice drop of red, there comes a time to say - enough is enough. It is just a matter of getting the little madam to come around to my way of thinking.