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Supa FUPA Fly
Moms' bodies rock, no surgery required
I love my FUPA.
FUPA, in case you're not up on the latest teen lingo, stands for Fat Upper Pubic (or Pussy) Area. It's a word my now 17-year-old daughter taught me a couple years ago, right at the same time she gave me a boy-beater tank top with another contemporary acronym — MILF — on it. MILF, of course, stands for Mother I'd Like to Fuck. The two terms, one derogatory and one complimentary, are linked not merely because I learned them at the same time, but because many mothers battle their FUPA in order to maintain fuckability. I'm glad Kenda gave me a MILF tee — I believe the occasion was Mother's Day, so it was a pretty rockin' gift from a stepdaughter — and not one saying FUPA. But I am not ashamed of the fact that since I had a baby, my body hasn't been the same. And yet, apparently, according to this very tough critic, I'm a MILF.
I bring all this up because, thanks in part to the celebrity mom boom and the media's mania over it, new mothers' bodies are becoming a bit of a cultural obsession. One tabloid cover I recently saw in a supermarket — I won't buy these damn things — had the gall to rate which stars had best recovered their figures since giving birth. Equally heinously, a Miami plastic surgeon (of course) has written a children's book to help kids understand why their mommies are covered in bruises and bandages after having operations to correct "the ravages of pregnancy." I kid you not. (Thanks to The Miami Herald's Howard Cohen for reporting on My Beautiful Mommy.)
FUPA, in case you're not up on the latest teen lingo, stands for Fat Upper Pubic (or Pussy) Area. It's a word my now 17-year-old daughter taught me a couple years ago, right at the same time she gave me a boy-beater tank top with another contemporary acronym — MILF — on it. MILF, of course, stands for Mother I'd Like to Fuck. The two terms, one derogatory and one complimentary, are linked not merely because I learned them at the same time, but because many mothers battle their FUPA in order to maintain fuckability. I'm glad Kenda gave me a MILF tee — I believe the occasion was Mother's Day, so it was a pretty rockin' gift from a stepdaughter — and not one saying FUPA. But I am not ashamed of the fact that since I had a baby, my body hasn't been the same. And yet, apparently, according to this very tough critic, I'm a MILF.
I bring all this up because, thanks in part to the celebrity mom boom and the media's mania over it, new mothers' bodies are becoming a bit of a cultural obsession. One tabloid cover I recently saw in a supermarket — I won't buy these damn things — had the gall to rate which stars had best recovered their figures since giving birth. Equally heinously, a Miami plastic surgeon (of course) has written a children's book to help kids understand why their mommies are covered in bruises and bandages after having operations to correct "the ravages of pregnancy." I kid you not. (Thanks to The Miami Herald's Howard Cohen for reporting on My Beautiful Mommy.)
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