Hot mama dilemma

A friend saved a copy of the More magazine for me to peruse. While this magazine may be geared towards women in their forties at this point in my twenties it all seems relevant. Even the numerous anti-aging advertisements didn’t shock me. I recently read somewhere that women didn’t have to start worrying about aging until after the ripe age of 21. Apparently, my being almost 24 makes me older than younger.

In my perusing of More I happened to come across a feature addressing the “Stacey’s Mom Dilemma”. I am no mother yet of a teenage daughter, but I definitely remember my own mother’s passage through this phase and have observed many other mothers contending with this dilemma.

Karen Karbo writes “If my daughter had become the hottie in the house, then what was I, aside from her chauffeur?” Thankfully, instead of the usual fighting the new hottie with weight-loss, tanning, and buying too short skirts, Karbo concludes that she should “…err on the side of momishness.” I write thankfully because while women who are mothers have every right to be attractive and sexual in their other roles, teenage daughters just want their moms' momishness.

I admit this does not seem fair. Often we equate the shutdown of sexuality and beauty with aging therefore when it is encouraged for women who are mothers to turn the hot factor off it could mean they are getting old. And it does not take a genius to figure out (just flip through any magazine) that this culture is definitely anti-aging, especially for women.

I believe motherhood is just one role that women have among many roles, which should allow women to express their sexuality sans all the anti-aging bullshit. We, me in my twenties, you in your whatever, are not old or getting older.

Hushing the mother-daughter demon

What is it with mothers and daughters? Especially daughters. The role of daughter is treacherous as it is the role most likely to subject us to temporarily turning into the exorcist girl with our heads spinning around crazily. This obviously occurs after spending time with our mothers.

I got an email from my own mother that caused the exorcist demon girl rage. Luckily, there were no bystanders and by the time my mother showed up to my door I was able to shove all the rage and the feelings deep down so we could go pick out paint colors like civilized people. I have learned that sometimes it is just easier this way.

Even then, in all our daughter righteousness we are always reminded that part of us, (even though we vehemently deny it) comes from our mother. We sometimes try and hope to be unlike our mothers and of course we are in a way, but there are those traits that still get passed along. Whether it is hair, hips, lips, laughs, acne, artistic ability, attitude, taste, you name it. Thus, we are subject to being with our mothers even when we are alone, which of course this too can cause the demon girl rage.

Today, I do not feel like making peace with my mother-daughter relationship or my head spinning rage, but I do think someday, with a lot of time, I will find a way to forgive my mother and accept some of the gifts she did give me.

Step one: cocktail!

Bridal shower fantasy

At first my "surprise" bridal shower seemed like it would be a tolerable idea. Unfortunately, I was brought back to my senses when my surprise bridal shower required my participation in the planning. Sometimes binuclear families suck. My friends emailed me trying to figure out who I wanted to invite. I already made the shit list for the wedding guest list cuts, so in my every effort to not decide the invitees I gave them the mothers’ email addresses and a list of the women invited to the wedding.

Having not been to a bridal shower I have no idea what to expect. Scary games? Then, Kait reminded me of the other “haha” funny part of bridal showers such as the wonderful lingerie piece from the soon to be mother-in-law. The thought of lingerie floating around is not what horrifies me. It is the thought that my mother-in-law would love it because she wants me popping out babies right away, and if it meant that she would have to promote my having sex with her first born, well, she’d happily endure it. (Sorry TA; you can always seek revenge by buying me a butt plug instead.)

Then there is my own mother who is definitely a burn your bra sexual freedom lady. While bridal dress shopping my sister reminded me of when my mother attempted to act out the sex scene with Halle Berry and Billy Bob Thornton from Monster’s Ball…in front of my sister’s husband. If you have not seen this movie you just don’t understand. Perhaps, my mother can give a butt plug tutorial at the bridal shower.

Family members are crazy and that’s why I love them. I am sure the bridal shower will be a fantastic female event (thanks girls!) where I will no doubt now finally receive the butt plug of my dreams and the much needed lesson from my mother – preferably after we eat the cake.