Once upon a time, I was all about modesty. At the gym, you’d find me awkwardly waiting for a private shower stall, while other bold women confidently stripped down for a rinse. Not me—I’d rather shower in my swimsuit than risk an embarrassing moment. Fast forward to today, and I’m yanking off my bathing suit before the locker room door even shuts, racing against the clock to shower before my baby starts demanding his next meal from his unprepared caregiver. Modesty? Forget it!
I never imagined I’d find myself in a bathroom with an audience urging my body to do its business. Sure, I had an inkling that this could happen eventually, but not before I reached my nineties! During childbirth, I was under the watchful eyes of five people and my iPhone while trying to have a bowel movement, which didn’t quite go as planned. After that, my modesty took a permanent vacation. Picture this: someone had to remove my top to prepare for the first public feeding of my newborn.
No one warned me that motherhood would wash away all remnants of my modesty as I welcomed a tidal wave of baby love. When it came time to nurse, my brother-in-law walked into the room. My first instinct was to cover up, but that was quickly overridden by a resounding “eh, whatever!” It’s much easier to let it all hang out while feeding this hungry little one.
Since becoming a mom, I’ve experienced some liberating transformations:
- Goodbye Bras! In those initial postpartum weeks, I ditched not only the bra but the shirt too. My sore breasts made it too exhausting to pull my shirt down every few minutes. Any curious onlookers outside my window would have seen a drooling, topless woman while her partner and baby chanted, “I think the baby is hungry again.” Now, I only wear a bra for special occasions like weddings or funerals—unless I wear one of those dresses that makes it unnecessary.
- Flatulence is a Reality. Everyone farts; it’s a fact of life. For too long, I tried to hold it in, but having a baby has changed my perspective. Now I embrace the motto, “if you gotta go, let it flow,” which applies to more than just the digestive tract. I have newfound respect for the elderly who don’t hesitate to let one rip at dinner—who wants to suffer through a meal with a belly full of gas? I’m not quite at their level of boldness yet, but I’m getting there.
- Food on My Shirt? Hand it over! Since becoming a mom, I’ve had everything from spit-up to baby poop on me. Pre-baby me would have changed outfits at the first sign of a coffee spill, but now? It takes a mini waterfall of baby goo for me to bother with a wardrobe change. Laundry is already a mountain; I don’t need to add to it.
- Oops, I Pee’d Myself. The thought of accidentally wetting myself in public used to terrify me. Now, I just ensure I’m wearing black yoga pants to conceal any leaks that might happen while laughing or moving too quickly. And if anyone catches a whiff, I can always blame the baby.
- Wedgie and Camel Toe? No Problem! With everything down there now two sizes bigger than before, my underwear has a knack for getting stuck in awkward places. I’ve lost all shame about reaching down to adjust my clothing, no matter where I am. Sorry, guy in the grocery store giving me the side-eye—feel free to adjust your own.
- Something Smells… Yeah, It’s Me. When I can’t squeeze in a proper shower (which is basically all the time), I resort to the “Mom Bath.” This involves layering on extra deodorant and a few spritzes of perfume to mask the delightful combo of baby poop, greasy hair, and dirt.
Modesty can be a cumbersome burden if you let it take control. It distracts you with worries about appearances instead of allowing you to just live freely. Who cares if someone judges your audacity? If you’re happy and feeling liberated, that’s what truly matters.
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In summary, motherhood has transformed my relationship with modesty entirely, freeing me to embrace the chaotic, messy, and joyous journey of parenting.
Keyphrase: motherhood and modesty transformation
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