WELCOME TO GIVE-A-FUCK ISLAND
Dear First-Time Moms: Mother Nature is Preparing You For a Life of No Dignity
But there is an upside
For all you expectant mothers, I write this post to give you hope. For you, Claire, and all the mothers-to-be who imagined themselves pregnant in a hazy field of daisies wearing a floaty dress with a crown of flowers ringing your curls, only to find yourself with your feet up in stirrups, your legs wide open, lying on a strip of parchment paper like a chicken at the butcher shop:
I am sorry your pre-natal checkups were a clusterfuck of indignity, while you waited forever for the doctor to come.
When time passes and your baby finally arrives, you will realize that Mother Nature was preparing you all along for the regular indignities you are subject to once you become a mother.
If this is your first baby, you will soon discover that life with Baby Darling is one humiliating episode after another:
- Baby filling their diaper as soon as you get into a crowded elevator.
- Having that same elevator get stuck between floors.
- Baby crying so loud while you are buying groceries that people begin lobbing tomatoes over the aisles at you.
- Snarky looks at the biscuit-encrusted stroller that was once as pristine as a brand-new Tesla.
- Going around all day in public, only to discover a BIG smear of baby poop on your sleeve only after you get home.
When the old Aunties come around in a group, be prepared for a pack of Auntie lies that you are not allowed to call out. They will immediately make you feel like a bad mother, as they one-up each other about every milestone your toddler has reached with blatant lies:
“I had my kids potty-trained at five months old.”
“I taught them Latin when they were three.”
“Mine were working for NASA by the time they were four.”
Here is advice from a pro. Give up the idea of dignity. Completely. Embrace the humiliation. Push through it.
There is empowerment waiting on the other side.
Once you give up the idea that you HAVE any dignity--or are entitled to any — you will be stripped down to the extremely powerful emotional state where nobody and nothing can embarrass you any longer. You will learn to tune out the judgement of others, and boldly stick a lolly in your little brat’s mouth, ignoring the judgement of the crowd while you pick three sizes of bras off the rack at Target.
Once you lean into the idea of having no dignity, learn to embrace it. Go with it, all the way. Then you can come live on Give-A-Fuck Island with the rest of us veteran mothers.
When you have no dignity left, you have no dignity to lose. It’s freeing. Trust me.
One day you will find decent childcare, and be happy to flee a home that is a maze of toys and blankets and food hidden in the sofa cushions, to a job, just to have time away from your sweet Baby Darling.
To have adults to talk to; to write with something other than crayons — or the bloody end of your finger that time Punkin bit it. You will have learned to use that blood to scrawl “bandages” on the shopping list taped to the refrigerator, and wrap that finger with a paper towel while sweetly explaining to little Punkin, “We don’t bite in this house.”
You will learn efficiency, resourcefulness, and vital leadership skills. You will learn to suppress murderous rage and not bite back, even when Punkin bites you again right afterward. You will learn that to be literally bigger means you must be the bigger person, patient and forgiving. You will also learn to say to yourself, “Wait until you grow up and it’s your turn. Gramma ain’t babysitting either, you little psychopath.”
You will learn, like Tay Tay, to shake it off.
Slowly, but surely, you will become tough. A tough mother.
The time will soon come when you get out of your house and back to your career, or at least to a job.
That’s when the payoff comes. That’s when you realize that being stripped of your dignity by a midget dressed in primary colors and itty-bitty running shoes has made you invincible. You cannot be embarrassed, or pushed around anymore.
That wanker of a boss who wants to mealy-mouth you about that raise you deserve but he doesn’t want to give up? Wanker Boss has no idea who he is dealing with. You have been living on Give-A-Fuck Island with a tiny, bossy, master manipulator.
You can let Boss Wanker know that you know he jerks his gherkin in the men’s room — and that you will be happy to share that knowledge with the whole office. It doesn’t matter how you know — every man has strangled his chicken in the loo before. It’s always true. If you hint that someone might have gotten a photo, that raise is yours. Soon you will be replacing him.
If you know your male cohort gets paid more than you, the years of “It’s not fair!” coming from your child’s mouth turns into, “If I don’t see that pay raise on my next check I’m going to Human Resources. And social media! Have you ever heard of Glassdoor? Also, I am friends with your wife on Instagram.” The persistence and creative blackmail methods of a determined toddler has rubbed off on you. You can thank her now. Begging is for the weak.
When your life resumes, and you walk into a theater to see a grown-up movie, only to discover a pair of your panties static-clinging to the back of your sweater? Your experience on Give-A-Fuck Island you will have you plucking those pink silkies off your sweater, twirling them around your head, shouting “Whoo Hoo! I thought I lost these!”
On Give-A-Fuck Island, we like to make other people in public spaces uncomfortable once in a while.
We earned that right.
And the men. The men who you used to try to impress or placate, the men who used to walk all over pre-mom you? Ha.
Ha ha.
Hahahaha.
The men who like to come to you with their unsolicited opinions?
“You should smile more.”
On Give-A-Fuck Island, we all know how to answer that. “And you should fuck right off, mate.”
“You are so pretty.”
On Give-A-Fuck Island, we recognize when we are getting buttered up like a piece of toast. Our toddlers have better skills than you do, pal. How do we answer, women of GAFI?
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Fuck the fuck off.”
When you give up your silly ideas about “dignity,” you will make room for a personal power people feel. When you walk into a room, voices will hush, and you will hear someone mutter, “Uh oh. Here comes the boss.” Because you paid the cost to be the boss. You don’t have time for bullshit, because shit needs to get done.
Recognize it. Embrace it. Wield that power.
Here on Give-A-Fuck Island, we know how to get ahead. How to encourage, flatter, reward and, if necessary, terrify the world into doing what we need them to do, to keep the world running so we can all go home in time for dinner.
Because we know what is best, for Baby and for our teams. We want them both to be healthy and succeed. We need our teams to eat dinner with their families, and to get enough rest. Unpaid overtime is not for women on Give-A-Fuck Island, or our teams.
Those mom skills are transferable skills. Put them on your resume. Take them with you when you go back to work.
It’s worth the price of the dignity you gave up.
Trust me.
*****
Here is the story that inspired this one: Claire Franky’s My Hot and Sticky Incident in Front of Two Men.
