I once prided myself on being modest. At the gym, I was the shy one, lingering near the locker room, anxiously waiting for a private shower stall to become available while other brave women confidently stripped down. If I was ever in a bind, I’d simply shower in my swimsuit.
Fast forward to now: I find myself hastily removing my swimsuit before the locker room door even closes, all because I have a mere 45 seconds to shower before my baby starts demanding attention from his milk-less caregiver. Modesty? Gone.
I never envisioned myself in a bathroom surrounded by three spectators encouraging me to have a bowel movement. Sure, I knew it was a possibility, but not something I expected to experience before hitting my nineties. The reality of having an audience during such a private moment was jarring. They were eager for me to succeed, yet the nerves and stage fright took over, leading to less-than-desirable results.
After that awkward experience, my modesty was completely stripped away. In the process of bringing a child into the world, I had five people and one iPhone watching. Oh, and during this moment, someone even removed my top to facilitate my first public breastfeeding session.
No one mentioned that motherhood would wash away my modesty as I embraced the overwhelming love for my baby. When I started nursing, my newfound comfort was challenged when my brother-in-law walked into the room. My instinct was to cover up, but a voice in my head said, “Why not?” It became easier to let it all hang out while feeding this hungry little one.
Since becoming a mom, I’ve undergone a liberating transformation:
- Forget the Bra: In the weeks following childbirth, I ditched not only the bra but also my shirt. My sore breasts made the idea of adjusting my clothing too exhausting. Any curious onlookers outside my window were treated to the sight of a drooling, topless woman with a baby and a partner repeating, “I think the baby is hungry again.” Now, I only wear a bra for special occasions, and even then, I’ve been known to choose outfits that allow me to go without.
- Flatulence is Natural: Everyone farts—it’s a fact of life. I used to be a chronic “fart-blocker,” but motherhood has relaxed those constraints. With a baby, I’ve adopted the motto, “if you gotta go, let it flow.” I now have newfound respect for those older folks who don’t shy away from letting one rip at the dinner table; who wants to endure an uncomfortable stomach? While I’m not quite at their level yet, I’m getting there.
- Stains? No Big Deal: I’ve had baby poop, boogers, and various unidentifiable substances on me since giving birth. Pre-baby Jane would have changed her outfit over a tiny drop of coffee; now, it takes a full-on spit-up disaster for me to even consider changing clothes.
- Accidents Happen: Before having a baby, the idea of wetting myself in public was mortifying. Now, I simply wear black yoga pants to hide any leaks that occur while laughing or moving too quickly. If anyone catches a whiff of something unpleasant, I can always blame it on the baby.
- Wedge Adjustments: With my body changing post-baby, my underwear often ends up in uncomfortable places. I’ve learned not to care about adjusting my wedgie, regardless of my surroundings. If you’re offended, that’s your problem, not mine.
- The Mom Bath: When there’s no time for a proper shower—which is pretty much always—I resort to the Mom Bath. This involves layering on extra deodorant and spritzing perfume to mask the delightful scents of baby poop, unwashed hair, and general chaos.
Modesty can be a burdensome constraint that distracts you from truly living your life. Why worry about how you look when you can embrace the freedom of being yourself?
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In wrapping up, motherhood has turned my perspective on modesty upside down, allowing me to embrace a more liberated and authentic self.