Our favorite chapter isn't the one where proclaims himself a Post-Traumatic Stress sufferer like some of the US troops he covered.
No, our favorite is when Thomas and his man boobs join a breast feeding group.
When I first attempted to join the La Leche League in my area, they refused me admission.
It was voiced that my massive cans intimidated the women and I believed that opinion mainly because the one voicing it was me.
After an intense self-reflection/jack off session, I decided to call my attorney who specializes in personal injury lawsuits but agreed to take this one on.
This move forced La Leche to let me in.
I showed up for sessions wearing a nursing blouse with boob flaps open and carrying baby oil to apply to my nipples.
The head of the group, whom I dubbed Cow, told me I was distracting everyone with my erotic moans as I twisted my oiled up nipples but I countered that I was the best motivating factor the group had.
It was on my third visit that I began using a breast pump and along with providing me with intense tingles, it also served the purpose of drowning out the objections from some of my less advanced co-group members.
Like a number of women, I was not actually able to get pregnant.
So what I did instead was put peanut butter on my nipples and call Prince Olaf, my terrier, and coaxed him into licking the peanut butter.
He did not, however, attempt to suckle at my nipples.
The closest to success I got was when I forced open Prince Olaf's jaw, placed it over my left nipple and let it snap shut.
It was at that moment that I understood how hard it could be to breast feed after your infant began teething.
(For any confused, yes, this was parody.)