Proof that a Mum-to-be can still have a sense of humour. There is nothing particularly pregnancy related about this photograph, apart from the silly ensemble documenting the bump and it's current stage of growth.
Talking of which, I was at yoga last night and there were two girls there who are also 29 weeks. One was MUCH bigger than me (cue, sigh of relief) the other was about the same size as the Pullen Bear. In conclusion, I'm feeling much happier and less paranoid about my watermelon.
After the lunges and stretches and one-legged holds (surprisingly difficult these days, not helped by my sciatica. Did I tell you about that?! Oh the joy), the teacher gave us a quick back massage lesson. Then we practicied in pairs. Man, this is my kind of exercise class. I didn't even break out into a sweat. Though I made up for that this morning on the commute into work.
I was on the tube and suddenly felt my arms go leaden; even the Metro felt too heavy to handle. Impressive, I thought, for such a lightweight publication. That was before the heat started swirling around my body and my mind blanked out, apart from one word: FAINTING, FAINTING, HELP (ok, two words), FAINTING. I was fully prepared to pass out there and then, in front of the man in the pinstripe suit. It wasn't a pleasant situation. I got off at the next station, Marylebone, in a fit of warm, flushed panic. As it turns out, at 9am, Marylebone station is a very quiet place to be, at least on the Bakerloo Line platform. There was no one else on the around and I thought, as I slumped in the chair, if I do keel over now, the next person who comes down the stairs will find a large, pregnant lady horizontal in front of the Underground map. Thankfully, the breeze of several passing tubes helped relieve my fluster and I was able to proceed into the office after a five minute hiatus.
Now, five hours later, I'm still feeling a bit delicate and just resorted to a Diet Coke. Mmm, those sugary bubbles, they're so comforting when you feel a little sick.
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