Who’s insecure?

So, like, it’s been a while since I last posted. But considering the world was meant to end today (yeah, where are all the Zombies, then?) I thought I’d mark the occasion by rambling incessantly at you for the next few minutes. You know, because I can…

Now, a lot has happened since I last said hello (although some people think I do nothing all day. What’s that about? I have a baby). Where do I start? Let’s start with the logistics (boring, I know, feel free to bugger off and get a cup of tea at this point. I’ll let you know when the juicy stuff begins).

Baby turned 5 weeks old yesterday. This is an issue for me. It’s an issue for me because I seem only to blink and days have passed. It feels like only a week ago, if that, that I was puffing away on my first ever dose of gas and air and freaking out because it made my eyes go wobbly (yes, I am a massive pansy, but to be fair, my body was playing homage to ‘Alien’ at the time and feeling pissed-up was the fragile icing on the blood-filled cake. Lovely image for you there. You’re welcome). Before I know it I’ll be grey and sagging and SHE’ll be changing MY nappy (Well, she’d better. Why else do you have children other than to secure your old age?). Essentially, she makes me feel old. Particularly when I spend my Saturday nights, at 24 years old, folding newly washed baby clothes and watching obscure films with my Mother (love you, Mummy).

Due to the undeniable fact I feel hideously old and boring, I seem to be spending a socially inappropriate amount of time examining my new body in front of any reflective surface I can find (at this point I just want to say that it’s not through any repressed desire. I don’t think I’m attractive).

Certain places that were once firm and youthful (yeah, they were. I’m telepathically winking at you right now. Gross) are now soft and heading south. But not just south. So far south they’re currently already half way to Penzance. And things that I’d once quite gladly show off to anyone that would look (get your mind out the gutter! Not that) I now hide behind baggy clothes and oversized, fleece hoodies that I will still be wearing in July.

I took a picture of myself (fully clothed, I add) the other day. Purely for reference. So I could give myself a little ‘before and after’ inquisition (ok. Inquisition is probably not the right word, but you get what I mean). Comparison, if you will.

This is me before my beautiful little angel (you have permission to get the sick bucket) was even a twinkle in my eye:


This is the picture I took of myself the other day:


I know what you’re thinking and, alas, it is true. Giving birth has not only made me flabby, old and soft but it’s also made me change species (!). Quite poetic, really, considering so has Star Wars now it’s part of Disney (I’m so funny)!

I’m so convinced of this that this time last week a man asked me, sweetly, to the cinema and I nearly had a panic attack. Well, that sealed the deal then, didn’t it (!). Instant sweaty palms and a complete verbal breakdown are a sure-fire way to secure a follow up text from this lovely guy (!).

It looked something like this:


Still, this whole experience has taught me something, at least…

Never have sex again.

If I do, I may end up like this:


And that’s just not nice for anyone.

Happy Apocalypse!


P.s. there was no juice. Sorry.


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