A friend recently reminded me that I regularly skipped dinner on a Friday night. The reason? To fit into my leather trousers and drink cider at the pub.
It was laughable really, as these were my very slim days, but I just didn’t realise how slim I was. If I could travel in a time machine back to the leather trousers nights, I would never deprive myself of a Friday night dinner. I would make it my sole mission to eat as much as I could, before slinking off to my local for a bottle of diamond white.
It was even more laughable when I realise I was blessed with slim genes during the leather and diamond white phase, and I could have eaten doughnuts and chips every day, all day, and it would not have made a remote difference.
Unlike nowadays. Still, I had good innings. For years I walked around with a slender physique, not realising how easy life was.
I do look back at that period of my life and smile. I was carefree. I was young. I was thin. But do you know what, I wouldn’t swap that tiny body and clear head for my current life. Not for all the tea in China (mind you, I’m not fond of tea so maybe this isn’t a great comparison) or all the chocolate in Cadbury’s World (this is a massive comparison as I have a very sweet tooth at mo). Nope, even if a Chinese man asked me to sign a contract, entitling me to all their tea, I would not budge. And even if I was promised all the chocolate I could ever dream of, tempting as it sounds. I would rather be busier, bigger me, with my ever growing bump.
I love my bump. I never thought I’d be so delighted to see my belly grow. It’s not unusual to see me peering in the mirror at my reflection, admiring how large I am. Because this time I can not blame my appetite and laziness. I have a real, genuine, reason for my glee.
Baby T is doing well. We’ve had 3 scans now and all his little organs and measurements are considered healthy.
And it’s a boy! We decided we wanted to know the sex, to prepare and plan, and quite frankly we were too impatient to wait.
I’ve always said that as long as it’s healthy I couldn’t care a less if it’s a boy or girl, but I know Mark is chuffed he will have a son and is already planning his football career. For me it means we can finish decorating the spare room with a splash of blue.
So yes, who cares if my belly, and probably other parts of my body, are expanding outwards. I have no intention of wearing leather trousers ever again, or spending Friday nights in a crowded pub, nursing a bottle of cider.
Besides, I can eat chocolate without feeling guilty about my waist line. And baby T and I need the energy.
I’m off to the shops now, dear readers, to stock up with treats for my Friday night in front of the telly.
Oh happy, larger, nights.
Without a whiff of skipped dinner.
And the only leather I’ll be seeing tonight, is the brown leather sofa I shall be relaxing on with my hubby and bump.