It’s funny how a baby can change your prospective on absolutely everything. The topic I experienced today was realizing, shit, I have no shame—but in the best way possible.
To think, that not long ago I was a perfectionist that cared so much about what everyone thought. That out of shame I waited to ask for help while struggling with anorexia (considering death as my only option) until I was twenty-six and hit rock bottom. Shame that I was too old to have an eating disorder. I remained “in the closet” because of the negative stigmas. I should have gotten over this so-called “diet gone wrong” a long time ago. Out of shame, my secret was with me for over a decade.
Motherhood is the best way to really learn how to not give a shit. Take today, for instance:
I was walking back to my apartment when my daughter, Vivienne’s, lower lip took over her upper lip turning into a pout, and also resembling an adorable shih tzu (but that’s besides the point), as she started to whimper.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, in a concerned voice, eyes widening as my facial expression turned to match Vivienne’s, which for anyone who has a baby knows is the kiss of death. Basically, it has the opposite of a soothing effect. Yep, my prediction was spot on. Her whimper suddenly became a loud echoing wail.
Then desperate, I did what any mother would do. Break out into song, of course, in the middle of the street. “Old MacDonald had a farm” came out of my mouth, in a pitchy singsong.
When I got to the Moo Moos, her frown suddenly turned into a big ear-to-ear grin accompanied by an adorable chuckle. So of course, to continue her happy spirit, I sang the rest of the ten blocks back to my apartment-with a moo moo while swerving around pedestrians, and oink oink before crossing the street.
I didn’t even see people look at me because I was so focused on my daughter and when I did look up I didn’t care. We made it home with minimal tears, maximizing the smiles with animals noises, and that was all that mattered.
It was in the moment that I was dancing and singing a made up song in the elevator, a rap called “I’m A Baby,” (going to trademark it-it’s a billboard top 20 for sure ;)) that I knew that I had finally let go of all of my shame. I didn’t care what anyone thought. Old Dani would never let her guard down in public. New Dani, didn’t care about anyone’s opinion enough not to. Hey, and if it took recovery for a couple of years and being a mommy to get me to this place, so be it.
Any of you FULL or aspiring FULL mamas feel the same way?