Thursday, 24 January 2019

Mamma mia! Are you letting yourself go?

I will not let myself go! I told myself, when I got pregnant. I'd see ragged mums in stained jumpers and think, Seriously, how long does it take to put on a bit of make-up?

It's not the putting on though, I've since discovered. It's the taking off. Who has time for that? Foundation I'm fine to leave on until the next rushed shower. But mascara?... eyeliner? There have been nights when I've heard my baby call, and have been unable to locate her, too blinded by the congealed mascara gluing my eyelids together.

I say 'call', not cry, because at 7 months baby Sol can already say MAMMMMMM-A. That's how she says it; like an exuberant Italian. 

Mammmmm-ma!  Why are you taking so bloody long-a?
Sorry bambina, it's my maledetto mascara!

As for stained jumpers? I remember in the first weeks I'd change my top at the slightest proximity of milky dribble. Now I'll rub it in and consider myself good to go. All the shoulders of my jumpers whiff and under a forensic's lights the sleeve of my dressing gown would doubtless glow like a Vegas hotel.

I've also been wearing the same clothes for 7 months, because I only wear breastfeeding-friendly outfits. Basically 98% of my wardrobe is on holiday, leaving four spaghetti straps with clever clips to do all the work. Spaghetti straps in winter? Oh, yes. Motherhood has made me square up to the cold, boobs exposed, eyes narrowed: Bring it, bitch! Is that all you got? 

Funny. I used to be such a shivering wuss.

Anyway, enough is enough, it's time to get myself on track. Look good, feel good, right? Which is why I'm going to get a haircut today... or tomorrow...well, at some point this year. Letting myself go? Never. 


Hello lovely reader, you may as well succumb to buying The Hen Party, because it's my best novel so far, and novel number 5 has still a lot of cooking to do! Thank you!

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