It's official. I'm all dried up. We've been weaned for almost three weeks. The other day I knew my son was totally okay with it when he gave me that twinkly smile as he tried to put his hand down my shirt and said, "Is there no more milk in your breast-es?"
"Nope!" I replied. "It's all gone. And you're a big boy."
But I didn't know for sure. After a shower later that day, I looked down to my now-mottled, no-longer-mouthed-and-red nipples. And I squeezed.
I was almost scared that I would still squirt, that my body would hint it wasn't done, even though I know we stopped at the right time. But nada. Just me. No leche.
This bar is officially closed.