Guys! Guys! I found a jacket that still fits me! I can’t even tell you how exciting this was for me… or how retrospectively embarrassing it is to realise that my day can now be made by a jacket, FFS.
(Oh, who am I kidding: I’ve ALWAYS been able to get ridiculously excited by outerwear, haven’t I?)
This little 60s-inspired jacket was originally from New Look, but it must be at least six years old by now. It was one of the pieces that survived the Great Coat Cull Of 2017, because, while it’s not exactly the most practical item of outerwear to ever grace my coat closet (There’s approximately 2 weeks in every year when it’s cold enough for a wool jacket, but warm enough for such a cropped one), I always think it has a bit of an Audrey Hepburn-inspired feel to it, and I’m all about that, obviously. I mean, if I’m ever stuck for something to wear, I like to ask myself the question, “What would Audrey do?” I can guarantee that, if you do that, you’ll pretty much always get the right answer, seriously.
So, what would Audrey do if she were 31 weeks pregnant, and her self-confidence had hit an all-time low? Well, I’m guessing she’d probably go for the tried-and-tested old failsafe of black ankle pants (ASOS maternity) and boat-neck top (GAP Maternity). Oh, and she would probably have been a bit smarter than me, and not let anyone see her from the side, because, while this outfit looked fine from the front, when I turned sideways, I looked a bit like a penguin, really, and, funnily enough, that WASN’T the look I was going for – no offence to any penguins reading this.
Anyway, as I said, my self-confidence has hit a bit of a low point lately, courtesy of the 3rd trimester, and all of the fun things it brings. Insomnia is still the biggest issue: not only is sleeping getting pretty uncomfortable now, no matter how many cushions I pile around me, I just can’t seem to switch my brain off at night (Yes, I tried one of those mindfulness apps, but it didn’t work for me because my brain decided it would be rude to full asleep before the end: British people, and our weird sense of politeness, huh?*), which means I wake up looking like I’ve been beaten up in the night or something. Thank God for dark glasses, huh?
(*When I told my mum this, she reminded me of the time my gran babysat for me as a little girl, and told my parents she’d had to read me numerous stories to get me to go to sleep. The next morning, I told my mum I was SOOOO tired because gran just WOULD NOT stop reading me stories the night before, and I’d felt I had to politely listen to all of them. I’m apparently still the same to this day…)
Also, I can handle the bump, but it seems I’ve also gotten pregnant in my FACE. My FACE, people. I’m just not down with that, at all: in fact, if I’m honest, it’s the main reason I was upset when Terry kept trying to film me last week – I was just all, “Dude, my face won’t even fit on the screen right now – back the hell off!”
So, yeah, I know this isn’t supposed to bother me AT ALL, because, miracle of pregnancy and all that, but I have to admit, I’m a bit thrown by it. Where did my face go? When will I get it back? Will I EVER get it back, or is it one of those things that will be forever altered, like my feet (Which haven’t actually changed at all so far, but there’s still plenty of time for that, obviously…) apparently will be? What if I have to choose between them, in some terrible kind of “feet or face” deal? WHAT THEN?
Yeah. I REALLY think I need a nap now…