The Unfiltered Chaos of Waitrose Dairy Aisle
When Feeding Time Becomes Showtime!
There I was minding my own business, doing what any self-respecting bargain hunter does in Waitrose; loitering suspiciously by the reduced section like a vulture in a cardigan, scanning for yellow stickers like a truffle pig with a loyalty card. I’d just scored a slightly questionable prawn salad (expires in 17 minutes, but who’s counting?), when bam; I caught sight of what can only be described as a full frontal dairy explosion in aisle four.
At first, I thought my eyes had finally turned on me, years of peering through camera lenses, baking, and late-night YouTube videos catching up with me. But no, this was real. A young mum, late twenties, casually going about her weekly shop… with both breasts fully out. Not a hint. Not a flash. Not a cheeky sideboob. No, this was the full David Attenborough voice “Here we see the female in her natural habitat, offering nourishment while perusing the oat milks.”
Now let me be clear… she was cute. Not “leave Mrs G and start a new life in the south of France” cute, but not someone you’d describe as ‘having a great personality’ either. And yes, I looked. Possibly longer than I should’ve. Not out of pervy curiosity, but pure disbelief. Like when you see someone walking a llama down the high street. You have to process it.
Her breasts… and I’m being clinical here, like a medical professional or one of those dodgy Instagram wellness accounts… were surprisingly symmetrical, nipples just a tad too enthusiastic in size, pointing downwards like they were searching for fallen change. And hanging there, fully exposed, while she clutched a toddler. Not a baby mind you. A toddler. The sort of kid who could order his own Happy Meal or ask to see the manager.
Clearly, Junior had just had a bit of Mum’s finest and fancied a top-up. My best guess? He’d helped himself to boob number two, then thought “Nah, not hungry enough” and left it swinging about like an abandoned hammock. Mum bless her, completely oblivious, probably too focused on comparing quinoa prices or wondering if she had enough hummus at home.
Now, before the breastfeeding army descends with pitchforks and organic sling wraps, let me just say… I’m not against breastfeeding. Feed your baby wherever, whenever. It’s natural. It’s beautiful. It’s necessary. But for the love of common sense, can we please add a splash of subtlety? Maybe a scarf, a bag for life, or the tactical use of a supermarket aisle with less footfall? Just anything to stop the elderly customers next to me from mistaking the scene for one of those Channel 4 documentaries.
It’s not even the act that bothers me. It’s the full display like it’s some kind of maternal victory parade. “LOOK AT ME! I’M A FUNCTIONING MOTHER! I CAN FEED A HUMAN WHILE GRABBING ORGANIC COURGETTES!” Great. You’re amazing. We get it. Now put the nipples away before someone, me, crashes into the sushi bar.
At first I was a little frustrated. I thought, ‘Brilliant, another one of those mums who treats modesty like it’s asbestos… outdated, toxic and best ripped out in full view of the public. But then… I realised the likely truth. She probably had no clue. Her kid outed the other boob like a late-night snack that he later regretted, and Mum never noticed it. She was just carrying on, blissfully unaware she was giving Waitrose customers a glimpse of something usually reserved for very niche corners of the internet.
In the end, I felt sorry for her. Embarrassed for her. Which is ironic really, because I was the one trying to discreetly hide behind a shelf of pesto while not looking like a pervert. And just when I was about to grab my almond milk for tomorrow’s porridge, I paused… looked down at the bottle… and couldn’t help thinking of her. The entire milk experience is forever tainted.
So mums, I say this with love and respect… feed your kids, be proud, and do your thing. But for the sake of those of us just trying to survive the dairy aisle without emotional damage, maybe keep one eye on your child and the other on your boobs. Because while you’re multi-tasking like a goddess, the rest of us are trying not to spill our discounted beetroot salad in shock.
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Chris Geiger, Author of The Cancer Survivors Club.
Daily Dose of Disbelief!
Bsky: @chrisgeiger.com
Bsky: @thecancersurvivorsclub.com
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