I don’t know much about Mariah Carey. In fact, I can list what I know about her on one hand (with only four fingers).
1. She’s the favoured Christmas album of my local shopping centre.
2. She’s dating James Packer.
3. She wears lots of sparkly, spangled, stretchy clothes.
4. The word “diva” comes to mind.
But I’ve learned something new about her in the past few days, something rather surprising.
She refuses to be naked around her children.
She told People Magazine, “I love them so much, but when I’m home, they just want ?to be with me. I’ll often take a bath in a bathing suit knowing that I’m going to have to let them in.”
“It’s that one thing that used to be my private time, and now it’s not, but that’s okay,” she added.
Her modesty, her fear of her own children seeing her naked is surprising. So surprising I was taken aback.
My first thought revolved around those low cut spangly, tight, (practically naked) anyway clothes she wears. I mean what’s the difference really? But I fought it back maintaining my pledge not to judge what another woman chooses to wear and knowing it was half sparked by envy of how amazing she looks.
So once I passed that initial (and to be frank slightly mean) assessment of the situation, I came to this conclusion. What the actual f**k? Her kids are four-years-old.
Mariah’s twins, Moroccan and Monroe are the same age as my daughter, Emme. Four sweet years. Four-going on fourteen at times. But still four.