This week, we’re writing about mom guilt and dad hats. This automatically raises the (very heteronormative) question: Why do moms feel shame and dads get to be silly? This is a wildly broad generalization and we realize that parenting looks very different for everyone. But society has long had a thorny way of putting pressure on women as parents, while men get applauded for the slightest lift. We’ve seen it in public, when strangers compliment a “doting” father while mothers practicing the exact same caregiving typically get ignored. We see it in the way that products are marketed differently to genders every day. And we’ve seen rampant misogyny as recently as last Saturday night. Women’s rights groups have fought long and hard to be liberated from such stereotypes, but culture is stubborn. The best things we can do for ourselves and our kids is show our own liberation through action: taking control over our bodies, supercharging our self-esteem, and getting to make a statement in the process.
Mom Guilt Comes in All Cup Sizes
A breast reduction has me questioning why mothers feel shame for choosing themselves.
When I found out I was having a daughter in 2024, I thought becoming her mother would force me to finally make peace with my body. Not because I was suddenly confident and decided I loved it, but because I knew I couldn’t spend the rest of my life teaching a little girl that the body she inherited from me was something to be ashamed of.
In some ways, it did change me. I’ve tried desperately to become much more aware of the things I say about myself, the way I talk about my body, the way I let a bad outfit or an unflattering picture dictate my entire mood. I don’t want her watching me constantly trying to become smaller, different, “better.” Constantly tugging on my shirts and taking an extra half an hour to get dressed because I hate how everything in my closet looks on me. But having a daughter didn’t magically make me comfortable in my own skin. Those feelings can’t and don’t just disappear after years of deep-seated insecurity from what I saw in the mirror.
After consulting my doctor and getting her opinion and advice, I decided to schedule a breast reduction for this fall, after my second and final pregnancy. However, the decision comes with complications beyond the clinical.
The procedure is not purely cosmetic, as I’ve struggled with back issues for as long as I can remember—including throwing my back out (which I previously thought was just a turn of phrase). That was more painful than both of my labors. But it doesn’t feel purely practical, either. It lives somewhere in between. I want to be more comfortable in my body, but if I’m being completely honest, I also want to like the way my body looks. I want to put on clothes without immediately thinking about how my boobs change the way they fit. I want to look in the mirror and feel a little less like I am negotiating (on good days) or fighting (on bad days) with my reflection.
Dad hats for every mood
As I attempt to resurrect my personal style after becoming a mother, my algorithm has apparently decided I need to become a “cool mom.” My feed is full of women effortlessly nailing the chic Oh me? I just threw this on aesthetic. You know the one: Crisp, flowy button-downs, unironic track pants, and the finishing touch of a cool dad hat that says “I don’t care about how I look.” So far, leaning into these trends has me looking a bit like Adam Sandler, but surely the right hat is the missing piece. Because nothing says chic quite like purchasing an accessory specifically designed to make it look like I didn’t try. —LBM
A new podcast from The New Yorker digs into the disturbing story of why a Los Angeles couple had more than 20 children via surrogate.
i-D Magazine put out a “Mother” issue, with profiles of Gisele Bündchen, Mia Goth, Slayyyter, and more.
The cutest Halloween costume we ever did see.
If you see me in headphones, I’m 100% listening to the new Remi Wolf album, Mud.
Timshel. That’s all.
“I realized on Wednesday last week that I completely forgot about school picture day—on Monday—for my older two boys. I have no idea what they wore or if they even brushed their hair. I’m anxiously awaiting the results.” —Folly reader Steph R.
Were you forwarded this email? Subscribe here.
