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'A Yo Ma, Lemme Suck On That Boobie'

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As ludicrous as this title is, the three-year-old on Time magazine's cover is old enough to ask a question in the style of a guy catcalling a woman in Brooklyn. And I'm sure that if the mom denied him, this kid would respond in an angry fashion like that of the catcaller: "Well, fuck you anyway. Your breast milk ain't shit."

In all seriousness, last week, this breastfeeding cover got people talking when they featured a young, attractive, thin, blond woman with her son just chilling on her boob like characters in a Spike Lee film chilled on an apartment building stoop.

A couple of things before I continue. One, what the hell is up with this kid's stare? It's Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction type of intensity. All that's missing is the Jheri curl. Can't you just see the kid decked out with the Jheri curl and black suit, nostrils flared and bugged eye and doing his best Jackson impression: "Motherfucker, how many times have I told you Jheri curl juice and breast milk don't mix? Next time, put my hair in a hair net before you feed me."

Two, I know that for magazine photo shoots, music is played to loosen up everyone on set and to make the photo shoot less tedious. All I can imagine is this 45 second song blasting on repeat:

Three, "God of Cricket" & "The French Rejection" article titles are also included on the cover. Really, Time? What you should've done was name those articles, "Things Not About MILF Boobs," then put a line through those titles with "Boo! Kill Yo Self!" written over titles. In case you didn't know, "Kill Yo Self" is YouTube comment board speak for, "I did not like the choice you just made, so I'm going to disagree with you." I know, it's hard to know that when someone is telling you commit suicide for freestyle rapping in your mom's attic that they really mean "keep working on it!," but that's why I'm here to break that shit down for you. Anyway, why did Time mention any other article on the cover? Like someone was going to pick up the magazine and totally disregard the boob shot and go, "Finally someone is writing about cricket in America." Because we know how Americans love reading about non-American pastime sports. Spoiler alert, we don't. Remember soccer? We cared when Brandi Chastain took off her shirt after USA women's team won the World Cup in 1999. And then we cared again when U.K.-transplant David Beckham started playing for the LA Galaxy in 2007. Sorry, I mean we cared when he came out with an underwear line for H&M:

David Beckham has appeared on TV for this ad more than he's appeared on ESPN for playing soccer for the past 15 years.

Now, back to the intentionally provocative cover. Does everything have to be sexualized? And I'm not speaking as a prude here. I like hot people being hot. How else do you explain my high school infatuation with Ricky Martin in all his shirtless glory? I was so into Señor Martin that I dreamed that one day Oprah would surprise me at my high school with a surprise performance from Ricky Martin. This is why thinking with lady lumps (or in the case of guys, man mound) is bad. I would've gladly used my one Oprah opportunity on some hot dude singing me Livin' La Vida Loca than to have Oprah aka Black Jesus, pay for my college tuition or get my parents a nicer house. Because in my adolescent mind, I was like, "Just because Ricky's probably gay doesn't mean he couldn't love me, right?" Um, duh, bitch, that's exactly what that means.

But clearly, the point of Time magazine's cover was to highlight a particular type of mother: the MILF aka mom I'd like to fuck. Because those are the only kind of moms we like seeing in the media, right? From Leave it to Beaver to Sex and the City, we like seeing women, especially moms, only if they look perfect and have it all together. Granted, SATC, Miranda struggled somewhat with fashion choices and looking like a hot mom. But by the time, the SATC movies came out, her wardrobe was perfect, her hair was perfect, her house was perfect and clean. If they didn't show her son in the movies, you'd think she didn't have one. And that kind of is the point, right?

Even though you have a child, you as a mother are not really supposed to change. You're supposed to be a great mother, wife and still your single fabulous and always-desirable-to-the-opposite-sex self. I'll tell you this, when I have a kid, the days of wearing impossibly tight skinny jeans will no longer a part of my daily regimen. Not because I've given up on my body and don't want to be attractive, but because I will then be a mom and don't want to waste precious moments of my day shimming into skin-tight jeans so I can expose my coin slot (aka butt crack) when I sit down to eat at Chipotle. Showing your butt crack at Chipotle is cute (not really), but exposing it at the playground and having sand from the sand box get in there isn't. Because if I get sand in there:

Time magazine, would it have killed you to highlight a mom who's not wearing skinny jeans and sporting a super flat stomach that is typically seen on a woman who has never been pregnant? I mean, you could have chosen a MILGLCFSCF aka mom I like getting leftover coupons for sugary cereals from. Or MILGSMAF aka mom I like getting sensible medical advice from. Or MILBSATFM aka mom I love because she's always there for me. But those moms probably don't sport the perfect messy bun ponytail or walk around bra-less in a thin tank top. They might have spit up on their shirts or don't have time to place their hand on their hand and give a sassy and sultry look that's borrowed from a Calvin Klein ad. "Are you mom enough" to be like me? Whatever, lady, who made you the ideal?

I understand Time has magazines to sell, but when it's just another regurgitation of the societal pressures women face to be perfect and fuckable, I call bullshit. Don't taunt women with questions like "Are you mom enough?" Because the bottom line is they probably ask themselves that question everyday and the "enough" is not about the looking fierce, but the day-to-day, am I enough to raise a good person and not fail them? But those kinds of self doubts don't make dicks hard and sell magazine covers. So just whip out that titty, lady and pose.