When I entered the restroom at the ski lodge, a sulky snowboarder teenager was already occupying its one bench. She sprawled across it, texting furiously, and looked up when I stood in front of her. "Excuse me," I said. "I need to sit here." "Why?" she said, confused. To all appearances, I was just another snowboarder, carrying a zip pouch the size of a sandwich bag. "I need to pump breast milk and I don’t want to put all my stuff on this trash can," I said. "We can share, if you want.