The creation of a beast

Being pregnant does show you in a whole new light to people.

Automatically people want to touch you. This I don’t mind, as long as we are on least first name terms, it’s when strange hairy hands come grabbing is when I freak out a little.

I have also forgotten what conversation was like pre-pregnancy as people just ask about you and the baby. Did my conversations revolve around alcohol, soft cheese, rare meat and anything else I can’t consume now I’m up the duff? It’s easy to become a category A pregnancy bore, but honestly it’s not me starting the conversations!!

The creation of the monster mentioned above has only happened at home, when it’s just the other half and I. He’s turned into my glorified slave, minus the outfit, and he just doesn’t grumble about it. He’s taken on all the chores (minus the gardening as some of you may know about) and seems to be enjoying being the “house-husband”. I’m pretty sure that will change come September when he thinks I’m just sitting around the house twiddling my thumbs all day.

I turn on this stupid whimpering voice in order to get things done. Simple things, like a drink from the kitchen or the ever important cheese puffs are just all too much for me now. Or so I make out. I am scared of the wickedness bubbling away under the surface. A devious woman with no shame. How do I sleep at night? Well not well actually but I’ll save that for another day!

Ta for now


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