To my new officemate:

This may not be the most polite thing to say, but I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are foreign. See, you may not know that the desk you are currently occupying is officially assigned to a colleague of mine. A very nice colleague, the type of woman who spotted my breastpump immediately and gushed about the joys of feeding her children (now grown and almost my age).

So, you see, when you barged in unannounced while I had my shirt completely off and a rather nifty plastic contraption squeezing my breasts every 4-6 seconds I was a bit mortified, but I appreciate how much you took it all in stride and immediately extended your arm to shake hands before I could even reach for a blanket to throw over me (see, the woman who is supposed to be here shows up about once a month and always knocks). I guess I just presumed that you were as much of a pro-breastfeeding activist as my former officemate.

So yes, I am thankful that you waited 3 full days before rather politely inquiring "what exactly I was doing to my breasts" and "why." You foreigness makes me feel better that we did full introductions while my shirt was off and my nipples fully exposed. I mean, you come from a country where topless beaches are the norm, so hopefully you took it all in the stride, although our submarine office is hardly a beach ... and at the very least you've seen what real tired and worn breasts look like (yes, organic food and extended nursing aside, plastic surgery will be scheduled for the next decade, folks).

And I guess all of that will compensate for the fact that you still don't knock.