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Having coffee at my local Carluccio’s on a weekday afternoon is, in effect, a kind of noninvasive vasectomy. Nothing hardens my resolve to abstain from parenthood more than the herds of posturing yummy mummies who congregate to slurp lattes and share the tedious details of their offspring’s development. I can feel my sperm count falling through the floor just thinking about these idle heifers and their conceited, boring lives.
Preened to perfection and wearing the latest designer outfits, these women ape
the glossy-mag images of their favourite celebrities, who are pictured with
their children in poses that make parenthood seem the most effortless and
glamorous of undertakings. Liz Hurley, Victoria Beckham and Claudia Schiffer
are just some of the high-profile women who parade their trim figures,
expensive wardrobes and immaculately attired children in front of the
cameras, giving the absurd impression that being a great mum and a walking
fashion advert is both natural and the new benchmark for acceptable
parenting.
Motherhood has been rebranded as the ultimate middle-class pastime. In the old
days, the bourgeoisie simply ignored their offspring or farmed them out to
boarding schools, imparting to them the repression and neurotic zeal that
had built the empire. But the empire has gone, and so has the sense of
mission that shaped the middle classes and their attitude to child-rearing.
Their kids, like everything else in their lives, have simply become another
way to flaunt affluence and strike a pose of moral perfection.
In contemporary Britain, parenthood is a lifestyle choice. It is not a
self-sacrificing favour to the rest of mankind. Unless you are stunningly
beautiful or a certified genius, your DNA is of no relevance and does not
require reproduction. But most people never look in the mirror and
acknowledge their profound ordinariness — they regard the continuation of
their genetic lineage as important, if not vital. Given the enormous damage
done to the planet by the billions of humans already in existence, there’s a
sound moral argument for not creating any more of them, especially in the
hyper-consuming West. Parenthood is a selfish choice that individuals make
for entirely their own ends, and, like all other lifestyle choices in
today’s Britain, it has become a parlour game of competing vanities and
one-upmanship.
The yummy mummy, whose life is bankrolled by a husband working himself to
death in the City, who dresses in designer outfits and carries the latest
must-have bag, whose hair and nails are perfectly groomed, is the epitome of
the fraudulent charade that passes for being a parent these days. I watch
them while I sip my coffee, observing the way they dote ostentatiously on
their infants as they chitchat with one another, paying overt attention to
every uninteresting thing the child says and does. Every chaotic scrawl it
makes with its crayon, every meaningless noise it burbles, is praised and
discussed as if it were the revelation of a prophet. Sometimes they catch me
looking, and at these moments, they always assume that I’m a broody young
man, smitten by the sight of mothers with children and aching for babies of
my own. They smile at me and coo over their children, pleased by the thought
that someone is looking on admiringly. They have no idea that I see straight
through them.
These bourgeois charlatans, whose children are delivered through elective
caesareans and raised by nannies, who hire night nurses so they don’t have
to get up to soothe their infants’ teething pains, have no right to call
themselves mothers. The chavvy mums of the underclass get blamed for all of
society’s ills, but at least they give birth naturally and raise their
children themselves. Unlike yummy mummies, they are the real deal. The
coffee-shop performance of the yummy mummy is no doubt the closest thing to
quality time she has with her children — and yet its sole purpose is to give
her peers the false impression that she actually enjoys being a parent.
In private, the middle classes can’t bear being around children. As soon as
their kid is old enough to communicate, every waking second of its life is
taken up by a ceaseless cycle of activities: horse-riding, painting, music,
football, swimming and drama. Yummy mummies talk about wanting to give their
children “enriching experiences”, but the truth is, they want their kids out
of the way so they can go shopping and get on with their lives. Whenever a
yummy mummy prattles on about the plethora of after-school activities her
little ones are engaged in, she is merely hinting at how much she hates the
brats and cannot stand being near them.
Children are tiresome, stressful and boring. For the first 20 or so years of
their lives, they bleed you dry and cause you fraught and sleepless nights.
If a woman loves her children, that trauma will be written on her face. But
yummy mummies have outsourced love to their au pairs and to the staff who
run the tennis clubs to which they send their children at weekends. They
bear none of the battle scars of those who have genuinely raised a family.
Fat, dishevelled and exhausted mums are the ones that matter. They’re the ones
who clearly carry the worries of the world on their shoulders. The heaviest
burden the yummy mummy has ever borne is the latest Prada handbag.
I pity the kids, stuck with mums who are too fixated on their figures to know
what’s going on in their children’s heads; mums who are so obviously
terrified of appearing imperfect that any flaw their child exhibits will
disgust them. Yummy mummies are praised to the skies as living proof of
female emancipation, managing to look sexy and glamorous despite the
drudgery of motherhood. It’s only when their children grow up into obviously
neglected and maladjusted freaks that we will realise what a disaster the
yummy mummy was, and rue the day we started fawning over her.
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Although brilliantly written, I wonder, has this young man been slighted by a Yummy Mummy? The vitriol expressed is concerning. A mother of two under 5 myself, I am the overweight, sleep deprived real mother he describes, I find myself wanting to defend the beautiful people. I do look good sometimes
Sara-Jane, Haslemere, UK
I couldnt agree more. I am woman in my late 30's with a 10 year old living in South Kensington. I work and it is my choice. Those women have not shown any respect for my choice. However they do expect to be admired for hiding behind an army of helpers.
Silvia, London, United Kingdom
As a working mother with two children having moved to London 2 years ago I thank the author for his honest and pertinent article. As the French would say, Ras-le-bol les yummy mummies! It's a weird world out there.
olivia, London,
I beg to differ with the writer of this very 'man-sided' view article. There is absolutely nothing wrong with women (mums or not) wanting to look good. Who says that to be classified as a good mum that it must come endorsed with strain or stress enscribed all over your face! I agree with Elena, every child dererves a happy mummy ,and if that means she is sipping on those lattes, with impeccable manicure in a coffee shop somewhere, so be it! Mummies have lives too, and may I say that you dont have to be rich to look good. A good dress sense and basic hygiene goes a long way. I dont have the luxury of au pairs or nannies, and I have been through all those sleepless nights and teething phases children go through, but that has never encouraged me into wanting to look like a slob to prove to a baseless theory that that is what defines being a good mother! We love our kids and we love ourselves too. Well done to all you mums out there who choose to want to look great...YOU GO GIRL!!!!
Sharon, Hertfordshire, Hertfordshire
This article seems more a work of fiction on the writers behalf than actualy reporting on fact! He has put all mothers into neat little catagories, looks great but is a bad mother, or looks " fat and dishevelled" and is an amazing mother.
His comments about the mothers in the coffee shop may well be true, perhaps those women do farm their children out to nannies and see thier offspring as nothing more than the latest fashion statment, but did he go home with this women and view what they did in thier own homes? No, i don't think so.
As a mother myself i felt fat and unattractive after the birth of my daughter, you body changes and you feel as though you lose your idenity and just become MUM, so why should women be branded as bad mothers because the get their hair cut, their nails done and lose thier baby weight in an attempt to re-claim some of thier own identity?
Clearly a man who has NO idea how women think or feel.
Kirsty, preston,
ha ha
I say let's have a full on 'chav versus yummy' war..........gone are the days of snooker balls in socks in the 'dog and duck', the new era has dawned ..............
pirelli shock absorbers V the barbie pink buggy (without the dread locked sprog)
Angela (mother, writer, chav for back bencher!
angela, norwich, norfolk
It's a pity that British women in general need a glossy mag with some celebrities mums pictures to want to look good. I'm strong believer before and now having a child that simple self-respect is sufficient enough to lead a HEALTHY life style; i.e. not overindulging in fatty & sweet food, keeping the basic hygiene (wash and brush), hence look nice. The designers attire is completely optional and don't define your parental qualities. Every child deserves a truly happy mummy, so be one.
Elena, Leeds, UK
Fantastic article, very funny! Dont understand the people who have taken the article so personally, its naturel for a women to want to look good, if getting your hair and nails done makes you feel good then so be it, it is not however naturel not have the desire to get up at night with your infant, or endanger your baby and your self by having an elective c section. I think the point of the articlr was just to point out that the new standard of yummy mummy is not one to be aspired to, its ok not to look great if you've had little sleep after being up with a fretting infant all night, its ok to admit that your tired and parent hood is tough. The celeb led facade of mother hood is not naturel and not achievable for most, so chill, if you wanna take pride in your apperance then please do so.... but dont feel like a lesser mum if you dont look/ feel/ act fab all of the time. The precious days of infant hood are short lived, enjoy them!!
Jude. I, London, England
imagine being in HIS head....5mins was enough for me.
padd wagon, manchester, uk
Pissing myself laughing so much so, that I can't type a proper reply.
Janie, Glasgow,
Funny - all this from a man who absolultly HAD to let the world know that his marriage had not dissolved, he had merely 'chosen' a yonger and prettier women to 'share my life with'. Will she be having your children Nirpal?
Louise, Bedford, U.K
Absolute rubbish from someone who clearly hates women.
Totally agree with every word that Siobhan says except I have two children who have completed the missing part of the jigsaw of life for me.
However I am a woman as well and I also like to look nice with the limited funds I now have available! I work part time to keep our family afloat and I love spending every available minute with my kids - I find what they say fascinating and the things they scribble are like works of art to me.
This article really annoyed me and I am often fat disheveled and exhausted but don't want the outside world to see that!!
kath ball, sale, cheshire
I think this article is an absolutely absurd generalization from someone who clearly does not have children. I'm a mother, I have one child, and I do not feel that because I take pride in my appearance that I should be pigeon-holed. Yes, I like to have my hair and nails done, I lost my baby weight, and I like to wear nice clothes. Since when was it a crime to want to feel good about yourself? If you'd spent the last nine months 4 stone heavier, unable to shave your own legs, throwing up every morning, then topping it off with squeezing an 8lb baby out of you for 36 hours, I think you'd want to pamper yourself a bit. I adore motherhood, but that doesn't mean sacrificing my own identity. My daughter is certainly not raised by a nanny, I breastfeed her and I get up every night to do so, and I do not rely on my husband's wages, I started my own business from home so that I get to spend as much time with her as possible. This article could not be any more ignorant if it tried.
Siobhan Mitchell, Edinburgh, Scotland
at a great article even though i am in the US. I was starting to feel terrible about myself because i still carry extra weight and wear sweat pants from walmart with spit up stains on them. i just got my second hair cut in six months. My daugher (6 months) has taken over my life, my house, my car...everything. Thanks for letting me know that iI am normal.
jen, memphis,