The Picture That Said ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING

Yesterday on Twitter the delightful Em Rusciano was bemoaning her recent mortification. She had gone out to the races in a black dress, having rushed out the door and not done a full mirror check. When she saw photos of the event, she realised with horror that her dress was completely see-through. And, as she wasn't wearing a bra (which would never happen to me, as I barely leave my bedroom without strapping the puppies in), the entire world could see her nipples.

Now, I've searched the internet for Em's nipples and I can't find them anywhere. Every picture I see has two perky little stars over the offending protrusions. But to be fair, flashing a couple of nipples is really not so bad. And I'd know.

I have flashed far more than that.

Let me set the scene for you. My mother used to teach art classes in her home studio to women, mainly aged in their fifties to seventies.

On this particular day, my mother was sharing photos of her newborn grandson - my first baby, and her first ever grandchild. It was a wonderful day. There was Little Man, tiny and sweet, all wrapped up in his baby blanket. There was Little Man in his Nana's arms, her beaming, him sleeping, all peaceful and full of joy. And there was Little Man with his Mummy shortly after the birth, her smiling like a radiant Madonna with her child in her arms.

The art class woman cooed and gooed over the pictures, passing them from one to the other, and marveling at the beauty of both mother and child.

The women left. My mother sighed over the photos again, looking with adoration at her grandson.

And then she saw it.

And her mouth fell open.

And she nearly fell over with shock.

Because in the Madonna photo, of me and my baby, was MY VAGINA. Oh yes. All of it. All of my vagina that had JUST PUSHED OUT A HUMAN BABY.

It was not pretty.

And she had showed it to her art class.

Sharon Stone flashed her vagina. The similarities end there.

IMPORTANT UPDATE:

After reading this post, my mother contacted me to (firmly) tell me that this is not what happened at all. The above story, she said, was a figment of my imagination. According to my mum, she only showed the picture to one person before realising what it revealed. She then immediately snipped off (ouch!) the offending corner of the photo, and continued to display it confidently to the world.

Still, art class or no art class, my post-natal vajayjay did make it into a pic.

And it was a bloody good story, besides.