Guess How Many Fucks I Give About Being A MILF? – Scary Mommy

Guess How Many Fucks I Give About Being A MILF?

I’ll give you a hint: it’s less than one.

On the list of things about which I give a fuck, having a stranger want to bone me is pretty damn low. Whether Kid Rock feels fulfilled as an artist ranks higher, and that’s not saying much.

To an extent, I get why some women want to be MILFs, or Moms I’d Like to…well, you know. At the very least, it acknowledges you are more than just a maternal figure, that you have an identity apart from nose-wiper and cereal-pourer.

That sense of self can all too often be lost in motherhood, and I’m all for promoting the idea that moms are still people. My motto is: Having kids broke my vagina, not my spirit.

There are plenty of ways to connect with that person you were before motherhood, but being considered bang-worthy by some hipster horn dog?

Knock knock. Who’s there? Certainly not the number of fucks I give, because that would be zero.

Think about it. It’s not even a good compliment. What they are saying is, “She is attractive enough that I would consider boning her, even though she does have kids.” Well, la-dee-fucking da, isn’t it my lucky day? Let me show you my episiotomy scars and we can get down to business.

The fact that it’s often bandied about by younger men doesn’t make it any more appealing. If memory serves, it’s not too hard to get males of this demographic, well, hard. Pleated khakis will do the trick, so essentially you’re saying I’m right up there with Dockers. It’s like being told you are amusing by someone who is severely stoned.

Wait, do you hear that? Me neither. Fucks only make noise when they are being given.

Now, one could argue that the idea of being desirable and a sexual being should still be important to mothers. All I can say is, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

I have two small children – does it look like I have any trouble getting laid? And yes, I’m sure the day will come when having sex and being attractive once again become priorities. But I hope my sense of sexual self-worth won’t depend on whether I’m providing wank fodder for guys whose idea of a romantic gesture is to spray their balls with Axe.

Hey, I wrote a haiku:

Snow falls gently down

Those flakes will last longer than

All the fucks I give

What I miss about life before motherhood cannot be supplied by giving a stranger an erection.

I miss going to bed when I want and not getting up until I am ready.

I miss going to the grocery store without a list because I’m so sleep-deprived that if I don’t WRITE IT DOWN I’ll forget the *&%^ing dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets AGAIN.

I miss vacations, real vacations, where you go somewhere nice and engage in as much or as little activity as you please.

I miss going out to dinner on a whim.

I miss reading all of The Economist every week and not crapping out somewhere after “Peru’s Imaginative Reinvention!” (or whatever) because my brain has turned to oatmeal.

Look, guys, I’m tired. I’m busy. I have little minds to warp and a to-do list a mile long. You really want to make me feel good? Tell me I’m a MILBFFF: Mom I’d Like to Babysit For For Free.

I’m getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.