Wednesday 7th July 2017
The tiredness has kicked in so hard today I officially feel jet lagged. My eyes are stinging and my lids are as heavy as lead. I have spent forty minutes staring at the departure board at London Bridge, close to tears as bright yellow digital letters scream cancelled and delayed on each and every board. I am too tired for this shit. I mean I hate commuting even when I’m not pregnant, like every other sane person living in London does. But commuting like this, and when I say this, yes, I mean pregnant – I just feel like a dead man walking. I feel like the whole world is unfair and mean and cruel to women. Why should I or any woman have to endure this? I am not angry for being pregnant, in fact I could not feel more happy and more grateful. But I would feel much better about my pregnancy if my husband were rich enough to keep me nice and safe and at home during these extremely precious nine months ahead. So, no I am not angry, but maybe just a tiny bit precious.
On a better note, today was another good ensemble day. I wore a black long skirt from Zara with long slits at either side and a white cold shoulder top from Topshop. The skirt’s waistband sat nice and comfortably on my hips, which is ideal for the impending bloat that arrives towards the end of the working day, at which point the waistline of the skirt fits perfectly under the bloated stomach, that without fail rears its ugly head around 3pm.
Thursday 8th July 2017
First and foremost, I got today’s outfit incredibly wrong and I can’t lie, just as I thought I was slowly mastering the art of too soon to wear maternity clothes dressing, I let myself down. I wore a black oversized plisee vest top from H&M with a pair of black wide leg printed trousers, with a tie at the waist. I knew the trousers were a little risky for work, as I generally save these trousers for evenings on holiday, as they are floaty and oversized and with a relatively bold print. However, the elasticated waistband was too good to pass up and I wore them anyway and regretted them the second I saw myself in the bathroom mirror at work. I looked like a giant hippy, with my gigantic trousers and my gigantic oversized plisee cami. To top the whole giant mess off, the most clumpiest and ugliest of massive wedge/platform sandals a la Stella McCartney’s Elyse shoe. I am not going to lie, I love an ugly stomp, hard and comfortable shoe – I do, but when the whole outfit is just ugly, the only thing to save me should have been my shoes. In this case, all they did was add to the trauma of this horrendous ensemble.
The thing was, I really did want to look fabulous today, because today was the day of my big meeting with HR, in which they would speak through the maternity policy. I wanted to breeze into the meeting fabulously, looking slim and stylish, with that pregnancy glow. But my giant ensemble just overshadowed any fabulousness, if there was any. However, I lapped up the ‘congratulations’, and the, ‘this is so exciting’ commentary regardless of my horrific attire. Funnily enough, I felt a little embarrassed, or maybe the correct term is bashful – either or, these aren’t emotions I am overly familiar with. Nevertheless, I left that meeting feeling a lot more pregnant than I did going in. It’s all starting to get very real!
Another milestone in this epic pregnancy journey is the date of my first scan came through today. In just two weeks I will finally get to hear the baby’s heartbeat and actually see what is growing inside me. This fills me with complete joy. Since I fell pregnant I have taken four pregnancy tests and ponder every day whether I should take another. It’s not that I doubt that I am pregnant, but sometimes I do.
But it would seem that the scales are most certainly reassuring me that I am indeed pregnant. I am at a weight that if I was not pregnant, I would be suicidal. There is absolutely no joy in getting fat, not even when you are pregnant. All that I worry is, how the hell will I come back from this? Will I find the inner and physical strength to come back from this? I feel a little bit annoyed with myself for even allowing myself to get pregnant so many pounds away from my goal weight. I had always told myself I would get my body into ultimate shape before having a child and I also said I would work out my entire pregnancy. Ten weeks in and I have been to the gym once and literally had to flee from the class as soon as it finished for fear of projectile vomiting all over the studio. To add insult to injury, I was six pounds over my goal weight before I fell pregnant. My clothes were feeling a little snug long before I even found out I was pregnant, now my waistline, my butt and boobs are expanding and swelling and cushioning for my baby, what hope in hell do I have for feeling even remotely attractive over these coming seven months? On that note I am signing off, I have a Dominos pizza waiting for my full attention.
More coming next week…xxx
