This was written by Erma Bombeck, world renowned columnist in 1991, soon after a very pregnant Demi Moore posed naked on the cover of Vanity Fair magazine known as the MOTHER OF ALL COVERS. The cover photograph took the world by storm. I came across this column in one of my old collection-piles. It was funny when I read it the first time. It still is….and some of my friends who have become mothers since say, “Very true.”
Second Pregnancies Erase Any Modesty
Since Demi Moore’s Vanity Fair appearance, which gives new meaning to “mother of all covers,” I’ve read a host of male reactions. They range from “disgusting” to “shocking” to “breathtakingly beautiful.”
As a mother, I feel bound to tell you: You are missing the point. This is Demi Moore’s second child. I’ll repeat that. This is Demi Moore’s second child. Translated, that means modesty is no longer a word in her vocabulary.
I am willing to bet that before the birth of her first offspring, she wore weights in the hems of her maternity tops. She demurely crossed her legs at the ankles at all times and requested two sheets in the gynecologist’s office. All that changed when she entered the hospital to deliver.
There is a stream of men we have never seen before who whip in and out of our hospital rooms like they are caught in a revolving door. They invade our bare chests with stethoscopes and throw back the sheets to “take a look at what we have here.” They pump, probe, squeeze and push on every part of our bodies. Hey interrupt our baths to inquire about our irregularities and watch us struggle with the hospital gowns that are too small to set a cocktail glass on.
There should be a sign over every delivery room in the country: Here enters the last modest woman on the face of the Earth!
When I delivered my second child, I shared a room with a young woman giving birth to her first. She was so modest that when she was examined, she turned her head to the wall and bit her lips until they bled. Two days after she delivered, she approached a man in the hall and said, “Doctor, I am nursing. Does this look normal to you?” and proceeded to drop her robe. A nurse guided her to her room and told her she had just bared herself to a maintenance man.
The loss of modesty is a given. You have no control over it. From that day on your body is never your own. Your children will not only watch you when you shower they will bring along their little friends. Why you are using the bathroom they will unlock the door with a shish-kebab skewer. You sit at the breakfast table with your robe open. It doesn’t matter anymore.
After I left the hospital following the birth of my first child, I somehow knew I would never be the same again. At that time, what I was feeling didn’t have a name. After this summer, I suspect it will be known as the Demi Moore syndrome.
Second Pregnancies Erase Any Modesty
Since Demi Moore’s Vanity Fair appearance, which gives new meaning to “mother of all covers,” I’ve read a host of male reactions. They range from “disgusting” to “shocking” to “breathtakingly beautiful.”
As a mother, I feel bound to tell you: You are missing the point. This is Demi Moore’s second child. I’ll repeat that. This is Demi Moore’s second child. Translated, that means modesty is no longer a word in her vocabulary.
I am willing to bet that before the birth of her first offspring, she wore weights in the hems of her maternity tops. She demurely crossed her legs at the ankles at all times and requested two sheets in the gynecologist’s office. All that changed when she entered the hospital to deliver.
There is a stream of men we have never seen before who whip in and out of our hospital rooms like they are caught in a revolving door. They invade our bare chests with stethoscopes and throw back the sheets to “take a look at what we have here.” They pump, probe, squeeze and push on every part of our bodies. Hey interrupt our baths to inquire about our irregularities and watch us struggle with the hospital gowns that are too small to set a cocktail glass on.
There should be a sign over every delivery room in the country: Here enters the last modest woman on the face of the Earth!
When I delivered my second child, I shared a room with a young woman giving birth to her first. She was so modest that when she was examined, she turned her head to the wall and bit her lips until they bled. Two days after she delivered, she approached a man in the hall and said, “Doctor, I am nursing. Does this look normal to you?” and proceeded to drop her robe. A nurse guided her to her room and told her she had just bared herself to a maintenance man.
The loss of modesty is a given. You have no control over it. From that day on your body is never your own. Your children will not only watch you when you shower they will bring along their little friends. Why you are using the bathroom they will unlock the door with a shish-kebab skewer. You sit at the breakfast table with your robe open. It doesn’t matter anymore.
After I left the hospital following the birth of my first child, I somehow knew I would never be the same again. At that time, what I was feeling didn’t have a name. After this summer, I suspect it will be known as the Demi Moore syndrome.
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