Why I hate Shakira
Posted Friday 8th March 2013 By Ericka Waller
I did not care much for her after she sang about having humble breasts like mountains (unless by mountains she meant skis slope shaped ones).
Now she has been flaunting her perfect post-baby-body a mere five weeks after giving birth.
Thanks so much Shakira, for making all us mums still struggling to “glow” five YEARS after giving birth look lazy. Thanks also for sending a message out to my daughters that women can only be loved if they are perfect, and that nothing matters more than looking good at all times.
I remember the way I felt after giving birth. I remember how one side of my brain was falling in love with my baby, while the other side was screaming ‘LOSE WEIGHT FAST WHILST LOOKING LIKE YOU ARE COPING AT ALL TIMES.’
I did not have a job to go back to, or a social life to dress for. I did not even need to leave the house – yet I still felt such despair about the way I looked. I did not know exactly who was judging me, but I felt it. I felt the need to be a ‘yummy-mummy‘ (why is this even a saying? Why did I want to be ‘yummy’ anyway? I am a 31-year-old woman, not a cupcake) and I hated myself for it. Why couldn’t I just immerse myself in milky maternal motherland and not worry about the extra stone I carried or the grey hairs that sprouted like wires from my head. Why did even my bloody jeans have to be skinny?
Maybe all the celebrity mums out there, also struggle with the ‘I am not a good enough mother/woman’ complex too. Perhaps Shakira was shrink-wrapped in spandex under those skinny jeans, or hiding legs as hairy as a gorilla’s armpit. Oh I DO hope so.
I like to think that if I dared be brave enough to confess “It’s bloody hard, this mother lark isn’t it” at one of the many boring coffee mornings I try my best to fit into, that floodgates of agreement would open and we would all break down in tears, hug one another and end the session chanting (a bit like that scene from About A Boy where they all sing “Single Parents Alone Together” and hold hands). We could shout ‘One, two, three GO’ and get our muffin tops out at the same time (Mmm, muffins, YUMMY!)
I don’t think that would happen in this stiff-upper-lip nation though. I think people would eye me with suspicion and the health care visitor would start popping around a lot claiming “I was just in the area”.
Instead we must keep it in, try harder, get up earlier, burn the candle at both ends, laugh in the face of exhaustion and LOL at everything going on facebook to prove we are not just boring mummies, and do still have a sense of humour hidden under all the rolls of hidden flab.