How Vomit Made Me Stop Caring What Others Think About Me

When I was in my teens and twenties I was all about exterior. What I looked like as opposed to how I felt. I dressed to be “hot”. I dressed and did things to please others. I wanted to somehow be accepted by someone, a group, anything really. Unknowingly then I was searching for this love of some kind and what I was looking for I had within myself the entire time. I cared what others thought of me immensely. I would work extra hard to stand out…I’m capable of mastering anything but I couldn’t master self love.

Today, luckily, I don’t give 2 shits what anyone thinks. Let me tell you a little story…

One night my son threw up all over me. I’m talking full blown projectiling chunks of vomit. It reached my neck and trickled it’s way down to my toes. It didn’t even gross me out and I am THE ultimate germ phob. However, being a mom and having my son, everything else falls to the whey side. In those vomit filled moments it hit me: no one else’s opinions or thoughts phased me because when I looked around I was the only one there taking care of my son, being a badass mom, with throw up chunk from ma head to ma toes, not even kidding. This is How Vomit Made Me Stop Caring What Others Think About Me.

I knew that motherhood had changed me and that night I realized it had done so in more ways than one. I don’t dress for hotness or to be sexually appealing anymore.  I dress like myself now and as a bonus I happen to exude sexiness not by what I’m wearing but by my energy and my vibe. I totally get the Olsen twins now and why Britney Spears had a breakdown. Like I really get it. Lol.

I don’t listen when people are dropping in their two cents because to be honest I never ask for it. I like to do my thing my way and I admire those who choose to do the same. It’s like we get it.

When other moms talk at me about how they raise their kids, what’s acceptable and what’s not I’m barely listening because I don’t care. My son is my business and unless I ask for advice or an opinion I’ll let them know. You think I care when a woman gasps that my son watches more than a half hour of tv? You think I care what they do? I don’t and you shouldn’t care either.

When I was covered in vomit I sat naked covered in puke while I gave my son a bath to clean him from his own vomit. I lotioned him carefully and clothed him while I was covered in chunks. I laid him in my bed where I knew he would be most comfortable. I then cleaned up the vomit that was on the walls, the floor, and curtains. Once that was all cleaned and taken care of then and only then did I shower and take care of myself. So why on God’s beautiful green earth would I care what anyone else thinks of me in any aspect whether it be motherhood, womanhood, style, fashion sense, etc? That ship my friends has sailed and sunk and it will for you too.

Be the mom you ought to be for your own children. Who gives a fuck what Krispy Kreme and donut are doing or saying.

My point is, everyone outside of you aren’t there when shit hits the fan. They aren’t there through the throw ups and poops, and boogies and sleepless nights. They aren’t there when you’re trying to get dressed, put makeup on, cook, do laundry, clean the house, and give lovins and hugs at the same time. They aren’t there working for you. They aren’t there for anything, it’s just you.  Let them focus on their families and how they handle things as opposed to telling you how you should be taking care or raising your kid or how you should dress sexy to please a man and how you need to “keep your husband happy”. Like GTFOH with that.

So I ask you this, why on earth would their opinion matter? Why would I care and why should you care what someone else thinks of me or you in any aspect? I like to dress like a hippie bag lady, I have to pull my own hair to workout, I’m not into clicks, I’m brutally honest, I’m not “skinny” and I am not a fucking narcissistic asshole walking around like look at me I can do it all. My son sleeps in my bed, he watches tv, he’s kind, loving, and compassionate. He listens to me and respects me and others. So next time you find yourself in a whirlwind of emotions over what “the moms” or anyone thinks of you, grab your favorite vibrator and go for a wild ride to relieve that negative stress. And while you’re fucking yourself, know that all those women and their opinions, can be doing the same thing either literally or figuratively. #dropsmic

Love this post? Read my story on why You Don’t Need Facebook to Validate Your Mothering.