Big Babies and Wardrobe Woes

To give my tummy it’s dues, it was forced to stretch beyond what most would consider reasonable whilst it provided temporary storage to Chickie who was six weeks bigger than the average baby and basking in enough amniotic fluid to fill a birthing pool.

There are things about childbirth that come as a great shock (I’m understating this for the sake of the pregnant). The first of many was that, despite what I’d seen in the movies, the breaking of waters wasn’t the discreet ‘ickle trickle’ I’d imagined. To think that I hung out in Sainsbury’s in the hope that I might be able to negotiate some complimentary vouchers by exploiting any prenatal leakages.

Had the unthinkable actually occurred in the supermarket instead of on my shrewd investment of a waterproof mattress cover, it would have qualified as the singularly most mortifying event of my entire life, and a lifetime’s supply of free groceries, a new car and a zillion nectar points wouldn’t have enticed my return.

I should really be grateful that I can actually fit into anything that doesn’t have an elasticated waistband. I’m not though and have decided it’s time to go through my wardrobe with the ruthless honesty of a woman who has accepted the fact that, without a tummy tuck, she’s never going to squeeze into her pre-tubster clothes ever again.

A bulging bin bag later and I stood staring into the emptiest wardrobe I’d ever known, there were actual gaps between the hangers. The solution was obvious. I needed more clothes but a 6ft 1” anti-spender stands between me and the wardrobe of my dreams.

Accountant currently has a stranglehold on the purse strings and has never had a particularly sympathetic view of my retail needs even when I fabricated self esteem issues to add depth to my cause. I am doing my best to resist temptation but every time I pass something irresistible, I can feel my credit card vibrating with anticipation. I'm not quite sure how much longer I can hold out.