One minute you can just about do up the last button on
your Primark stonewash (impulse buy) jeans that are only really to be worn in
the garden.
The next, you have to look in a full length mirror to see
if you need to have a bikini wax as you can’t see past your tummy.As if that isn't bad enough, I don’t have any decent clothes to wear, and am loathed to buy anything new. So am squeezing into pre-preggers clothes like a woman with chronic body dysmorphia.
There is nothing worse than seeing a pregnant gut hanging
out of the bottom of your T-shirt.
Espesh in the freezing weather, as the chances
are it’s not only covered in stretch marks from baby one, but also purple from
cold.
Lovely stuff.
They say that you should be able to feel the baby moving
about more second time round as you’re more familiar with the sensation. But I’m inclined to disagree.
I thought Tiddler, as it is called for now, was having a bit of a stretch the other day so called Ben over to see if he could feel anything ‘from the outside’, just as I farted without warning.
Then the ‘moving’ stopped.
I’m turning into someone who has no control over bodily functions; I literally want to curl up in a big methane-infused ball and not come out again until after the baby’s been born.
I had to bite the bullet and buy new bras the other day, mind.
I’d passed on the nursing bras I used for Nancy to someone else, and can't
for the life of me remember who that was.
And short of asking for them back on Facebook,
which did feel a tad like social media suicide, I thought I should at least
purchase one item in the next nine months.
So I bought some off E-bay. New.
I have some standards.
But none-the-less, half the price of if I’d bought them in M and S.
Turns out they’re too small. Obviously.
But that’s not a
reason to return them on E-bay. Soz I didn’t realise how massive my tits have
got- can I have my tenner back please?
So instead I am going to have to endure wearing them over
the foreseeable months.
The plus side is, I now look forward to coming home and taking off my bra.
In fact, you know when you’re comfortable at
other people’s houses as you can take it off there are well.
If my pre-Nancy self could see my now self, I think we’d be having strong words.
There was a time not that long ago when my idea of a good
night was going to the pub followed by a proper dance to cheesy music that
makes you want to sweat your face off and move till your feet bleed.Now that life feels very much like someone else's. I start to get a bit panicky if I'm up past 11 these days.
But at least there’s a mega ace prize at the end of all
this- a new person to join our team.
I just have to remind myself of that on a Saturday night when the highlight is taking my bra off and eating a Twirl.