Why It’s Total BS That I’m Not Supposed To Curse Because I’m A Mom
I always knew I wanted to be a mom. Not in the “having kids is the only thing of value that I’ll ever do” kind of way, but in the sense that I have a lot of love to give and am narcissistic enough to want to put a bunch of little versions of me into the world. What’s not awesome about motherhood, though, is the fact that when I curse, people look at me like I’m fucking insane.
Seriously? I popped a kid out of my vagina and that means I’m not a potty mouth anymore?
I am of the opinion that people take curse words way too seriously anyway. I mean, I get why they’re inappropriate in a professional environment and I totally get why I’m not supposed to encourage my two year old to pepper her burgeoning vocabulary with what I like to call my “colorful” words. But, really? It’s not like I’m smoking crack in the condiment aisle of the grocery store. I said “Shit” when I dropped a bottle of ketchup. I don’t need your disapproving glances, lady. Go cover your kid’s ears somewhere else.
If the biggest threat to your child is my curse words, I’d say your kid has it pretty easy and probably needs to toughen up a little.
I resent the whole thing so much because, to me, it goes along with this expected surrender of your pre-motherhood persona. I like to think that I’m a better person since becoming a mom, but I’m still the same person. I wouldn’t be an awesome mom if I wasn’t such an awesome person to begin with. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I’m still twenty-four. Somehow being a mother negates the fact that I have awesome legs? My hipbones are now contraband because a baby once lived between them? I call bullshit.
I’m glad I’m a young mother because by the time I’m 42, both of my kids will be going to college and I’ll still be hot enough to do shit. 42 is the new 28, haven’t you heard? I’m going to be going on vacations and doing age-appropriate hoodrat things with my friends. It’s going to be fucking awesome. In the meantime, I refuse to pretend that I’m anything but my twenty-four year old, amazing mom self. If you think I look ridiculous in a crop top with a baby strapped to my chest in a carrier or want to think I’m a reckless parent because I just said “goddamnit” in front of my two month old, well that’s your fucking problem.