Ways to make Heather Happy

In a week which began with me catching my naked arse in the bathroom mirror, and a seeing photo that suggested that I was developing bingo flaps, it appeared as though nothing could possibly cheer me up. Even the delicious heat that has covered London only exemplifies the fact that certain bits of my thighs are rubbing together. I hadn’t thought this would disturb me too much, and the fact that is does I firmly blame Kelly for. To have the only person I have watched go through pregnancy (twice) be the type of person who appears to gain little more than a delightfully cute basketball and a set of stunning boobs, is thoroughly annoying. Instead, I sit here, on my little half-way pedestal of 20 weeks, with thighs capable of feeding a small country.

There has been little consolation in fact that my new-found weight and belly has finally crossed that line of ‘is she fat or pregnant’ and I now get offered (mostly) seats on the tube. (note: people giving me seats on the tube has been my favourite topic for the past few months. Poor Dave gets an intimate run down each day of my two tube journeys. My research has shown me that the good Samaritans of London are predominantly only middle-aged white women and 20 – 25 year old male Canadians [seriously – it has happened twice]).

So it has been a pretty glum week. Everything has gone wrong. The first Lasagne I attempted was a little on the dry side, and too heavy on the sage. The Crows only won by 35 points. Nikki got evicted from Big Brother, Neither Georgia or Mez have updated their blogs. Olivia is getting a kitten (I want one). Dave told me he is skipping the country for a month when I am 6 – 7 months pregnant. Food keeps attaching itself to inappropriate parts of my clothing. The pigment over my lip has changed to look a bit like a moustache from a distance.

And then there came an event that I shall call ‘Alex Webster’.

Ahhhhhh. Webbie. Even though I consistently forget her birthday (and Mez’s) and have not put in the effort to call her for a million years, in typical Alex fashion, she sent me a surprise that has turned my frown, upside-down.

Before I go any further, I don’t want to imply that you should all be showering me with cute little baby gifts and that it is a competition for godmother-ship (but if you take that idea with you, well… that can’t be helped).

Webbie has sent the most incredibly soft, little (faux) fur vest for our little winter baby (now referred to as FredorElla). Both Dave and I dribbled over it enviously as we pondered whether it came in adult sizes. Sadly it wouldn’t fit either of us. It would not get past my fat hobbit-like wrists. And it is a perfect match for the little bear-eared (faux) fur bonnet the Mayo’s gave us. Brilliant.

So a big thank you for the lovely, very unexpected surprise Webbie, and of course to male Al who was not doubt instrumental in picking the colour, style and size of the vest :)