“I just don’t think you are an ingénue anymore,” he said dripping with ripe sexism, “I mean you just had a kid, so now you’re in a different category’”. Those were the exact, misogynistic words, a prematurely balding, trans fats praising, Rogaine obsessed male, who was on my representation team, said to me merely three weeks after birthing my newborn child. “We will have to evaluate your future.”

I remember laying in the bath tub, which added insult to injury, as I looked down at my mangled, rosé nipples and my pulpy post human creating tummy and bursting into tears. Was this it? Was my life now whittled down to “Mom jeans” and a sexless marriage? Would my husband no longer look at my body as something, from time to time, he wanted to politely objectify but rather feel sorry for? And how did it change so fast? One minute I was in an attention seeking string bikini for my man sipping house made coconut Mai Tai’s in Thailand and then within a year I was putting the “do not disturb” box.  I was not only not allowed to “be” sexy but by damn, how dare I “feel” it.

Two words for you Mothers out there. FUCK THAT. Look, I get it, most days I rise with my toddler’s food in my two day old matted hair, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I applied mascara and the exhaustion from running full-tilt after a preschooler can be physically painful but that being said, I still will not succumb to the belief that mothers and “sexy” are two words that are not mutually exclusive.

We have all judged the mother who is dutifully doing school pick up and walks in with their full multi colored face, high heels and a dress too tight that we know what her skin suit looks like. We have all silently mocked her and her ability to get her shit together. We do this because in some way it itches something deeper within ourselves. Whether we are irritated that we have lost our own self confidence or that we have subconsciously chosen to tune into the untruths of our ass backwards culture whereby woman get to certain milestones in their lives and are told they are invisible.

God, if I see one more prepubescent, pleading female on a billboard selling us what sexy feels like, when these woman are smack in the middle of those unformed years that are met with overwhelming confusion and lack of self discovery, I’m going to throw up. Put any mother on there who, before 10 am, has held a thirty person board meeting, personally cooked every meal for her entire family, kissed her husband goodbye and put on pair of dangerous heels. Now THAT’S HOT.

I’m giving you this gift.  You are allowed to be, feel, act, live a sexy, amorous, red-hot, alluring, slinky, sultry existence. When you feel like it, and how you feel like it. Believe me, your sex appeal didn’t just magically disappear the minute you developed a placenta. And if anyone out there judges you for it, simply hand them some Victoria Secret undies and a red lipstick and walk away. I mean, you’re just giving them so inspo for baby number two!


Tam xoxo