Rihanna refuses to wear special maternity clothes because dressing up is “too much fun”. The star rocks stylish cropped tops and bras and confidently shows off her baby bump. Most fans love her maternity style, however, some disapprove of her outfit choices, calling them too “revealing” and “inappropriate”.
Rihanna is pregnant with her second child.
The star welcomed her first child with A$AP Rocky in May 2022. Later Rihanna announced her second pregnancy during her 2023 Super Bowl Halftime Show. So far, the due date has been kept in secret. However, it’s rumored that the baby will be born in 2023.
She often shows off her bold maternity looks.
Before the announcement, the singer used to wear thick coats and hide her pregnancy with distracting colors. Now the star embraces her baby bump and exposes it whenever possible. Comfy sports bras, cropped tops, and even unbuttoned jeans — Rihanna has her own cool maternity style.
The singer was criticized for her style.
In January, the couple did a pregnancy photoshoot where Rihanna bared her stomach. Someone wrote, “I’m getting old because I saw those Rihanna pics and was thinking: It’s too cold for her to be bearing that bump like that, baby’s probably freezing.” “Congrats to Rihanna and Rocky, but please cover up, it’s cold.” Some people also believe Rihanna’s style is too revealing and inappropriate.
Rihanna responded to the criticism.
The celebrity mom is aware of the criticism regarding her style. She explains her outfit choices, “When I found out I was pregnant, I thought to myself, there’s no way I’m going to go shopping in a maternity aisle.”
She adds, “My body’s doing incredible things right now, and I’m not going to be ashamed of that. Why should you be hiding your pregnancy?” She finished off with a bold statement, “I’m sorry, it’s too much fun to get dressed up, and I’m not going to let that part disappear because my body is changing.”
It’s not the first time Rihanna has been criticized by her fans. Once she was frowned upon for calling her son “fine”. The star responded like the queen she is.
Preview photo credit The Hollywood Fix / YouTube
My 81-year-old grandma started posting selfies on Instagram with heavy filters.
The notification popped up on my phone, another Instagram post from Grandma Rose. I sighed, tapping on the icon. There she was, her face smoothed and airbrushed beyond recognition, a pair of oversized, cartoonish sunglasses perched on her nose. A cascade of digital sparkles rained down around her. The caption read, “Feeling my vibe! #OOTD #YOLO #GrandmaGoals.”
My stomach churned. At first, it had been a novelty, a quirky, endearing quirk of my 81-year-old grandmother. But now, weeks into her social media blitz, it was bordering on unbearable.
It had started innocently enough. She’d asked me to help her set up an Instagram account, intrigued by the photos I’d shown her of my travels and friends. I’d thought it was a sweet way for her to stay connected with the family, a digital scrapbook of sorts.
But Grandma Rose had taken to Instagram like a fish to water, or rather, like a teenager to a viral trend. She’d discovered the world of filters, the power of hashtags, and the allure of online validation. Suddenly, she was posting multiple times a day, each photo more heavily filtered than the last.
The captions were a whole other level of cringe. She’d pepper them with slang I barely understood, phrases like “slay,” “lit,” and “no cap.” She’d even started using emojis, a barrage of hearts, stars, and laughing faces that seemed to clash with her gentle, grandmotherly image.
The pinnacle of my mortification came when she asked me, with wide, earnest eyes, how to do a “get ready with me” video. “You know, darling,” she’d said, her voice brimming with excitement, “like those lovely young ladies on the internet. I want to show everyone my makeup routine!”
I’d choked on my coffee. My makeup routine consisted of moisturizer and a swipe of mascara. Grandma Rose’s “makeup routine” involved a dusting of powder and a dab of lipstick.
The worst part was, my entire family was egging her on. They’d shower her with likes and comments, calling her “amazing,” “inspiring,” and “a social media queen.” They were completely oblivious to my growing dread.
I was trapped in a vortex of secondhand embarrassment. What if my friends saw these posts? What if my coworkers stumbled upon her profile? I could already imagine the whispers, the snickers, the awkward attempts at polite conversation.
I found myself avoiding family gatherings, dreading the inevitable discussions about Grandma Rose’s latest post. I’d scroll through my feed, wincing at each new notification, my finger hovering over the “unfollow” button, a button I couldn’t bring myself to press.
One evening, I found myself sitting across from my mom, the glow of her phone illuminating her face as she scrolled through Grandma Rose’s profile. “Isn’t she just the cutest?” she gushed, showing me a photo of Grandma Rose with a digital halo and angel wings.
“Mom,” I said, my voice strained, “don’t you think this is… a little much?”
My mom looked at me, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? She’s having fun. She’s expressing herself.”
“But it’s not her,” I argued. “It’s like she’s trying to be someone else.”
“She’s adapting, darling,” my mom said, her voice gentle. “She’s embracing technology. She’s living her best life.”
I knew I wasn’t going to win this argument. My family, in their well-meaning attempt to support Grandma Rose, were completely blind to the awkwardness of the situation.
I decided to try a different approach. The next time Grandma Rose asked me for help with her Instagram, I sat down with her and gently explained the concept of “authenticity.” I showed her photos of herself, unfiltered and unedited, her smile genuine, her eyes sparkling with wisdom.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, Grandma,” I said, my voice sincere. “You don’t need filters or slang to be amazing.”
She looked at the photos, her eyes softening. “Do you really think so, darling?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“Absolutely,” I said, squeezing her hand.
Grandma Rose didn’t stop posting, but she did tone it down. The filters became less intense, the captions more genuine. She even started sharing stories from her life, anecdotes that were both heartwarming and hilarious.
And slowly, I began to appreciate her online presence. I realized that it wasn’t about trying to be an influencer; it was about Grandma Rose finding her own way to connect with the world, to express her joy, to simply be herself. And in the end, that was more than enough.
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