Moms Are Sexy As Hell

I’m not sure how we arrived at the painfully stereotypical image of mothers we seem to collectively have.

Perhaps it’s those high waisted, eight-inch-zipper denim disasters unfortunately known as “Mom Pants”. Maybe it’s the idea of a woman’s sexualized body being used for something other than commercials and music videos and billboards. Maybe it’s the fact that we all have mothers, and thinking about them knocking boots is, admittedly, anything but pleasant.

Maybe it’s the fictitious belief that a woman’s vagina is ruined after popping out her precious offspring. Take it from me, if anything were to “ruin” a woman’s meat wallet it would be the beatings it took making babies. Not the moments spent pushing one out.

Or maybe it’s mothers themselves, who quickly forget how beautiful and sexy they are thanks to sleepless nights and unavoidable responsibilities and someone sucking on their tits for sustainability, not pleasure. The moms who let someone else control their bodies not with cuffs or whips or gags, but with morning sickness and heartburn and uncontrollable flatulence. The moms who had their legs spread in front of strangers with stethoscopes instead of cameras, worried about breathing instead of performing.

Regardless of the reasons why, and unfortunately there are many, I’m here to tell you: Mothers are fucking sexy as shit. No, not just celebrity moms who are endlessly objectified to the point that we don’t view them as mothers, but rather sex symbols with baby accessories. I’m talking about the every-day mother. The shoe-tying, lunch-making, diaper-changing mother you overlook at the grocery store.

That mother. Yeah. She’s hot.

Ignore those judgement-laced comments like “but, remember, she’s a mom” that enforce the fabricated idea that a woman must discard every other part of her personality. Especially the passionate, sexual, erotic part. Abandon the notion that a woman’s body is somehow “ruined” by childbirth when, in fact, it is enhanced.

A mother has curves in all the right places. Her expanding hips, now positioned ever-so-differently after giving birth, create the most delicious of hour glasses. Whether she lost the baby weight quickly or has a few extra pounds to show, she’s carrying around an intoxicating confidence that comes with knowing full well what her body is capable of.

A mother is certain of her strength. If self-assurance is sexy than a mother is Aphrodite incarnate. She knows the depths of pain and the edges of sacrifice, having experienced both willingly. She knows that while she wants a man (or woman) she doesn’t need a man (or woman), having found an unimaginable amount of courage in herself.

A mother doesn’t need you, so if she’s with you it’s because she wants you.

A mother appreciates, nay craves, a meaningless romp. She knows what it’s like to make a baby, but that doesn’t mean her affinity for sex ends with reproduction. She enjoys the just because I have to have you sex; her desires as careless as the days she lived sans offspring. She doesn’t spend times between the sheets simply to fulfill a feigned obligation to her partner. Sex isn’t an item on her checklist, under buying diapers or her breakfast yogurts.

Sex and its infinite pleasures are an intricate part of who she is.

A mother can give as much as she can take. Her sacrifices don’t end in the bedroom, and neither do her demands. She knows what she wants, how she wants it, and she has no problem making sure either are clear. Talking about sex isn’t taboo and talking during sex isn’t uncomfortable. She’ll make sure both parties leave satisfied because, honestly, she doesn’t have the time not to be.

So when you think about a mother, forego the image of high-waisted jeans and a slobber-covered sweater. Rethink the idea that she’s nothing more than a shoe-tying, lunch-making, diaper-changing parent who left her hump-happy days behind her.

Because she’s sexy. Oh yes, so fucking sexy.

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