Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

I was always that person who said “I can’t understand how people change so much once they have a baby, that’ll never be me” I said it right up to the point I had Frankie. What an arrogant, naive arsehole I was. I had no idea what I was talking about. 

I did not once entertain the idea that perhaps I would be one of the many who suffered from a bad case of the baby blues that then turned into postnatal depression and now is wavering around postnatal anxiety. I’ve gone from a strong, feisty, independent woman (yes, I mean bitch) to a shell of my former self; totally dependent on my family and Pete and devastated at hearing bullshit being said about me. I won’t say boo to a goose now but before I would have chased the goose down and grabbed it by the neck! I’m not a big fan of this new me as you may be able to tell. I’m sure people don’t realise and think I’m the same but I don’t think it justifies it, but I think that’s the new me talking. Old me would give no fucks. Not one. 
Apart from the changes that can’t be seen, the physical changes are just as irritating. I never had an amazing body but now my stomach looks like a flaccid ball bag. It really does. And I still look a bit pregnant! He’s 4 and a half months old! I don’t understand why my diet of chocolate, coffee and pizza isn’t working to make me a size 10!! Seriously, I need to get this sorted, any motivation or decent home workouts anyone can suggest would be great. Or come and forcibly remove said chocolate, coffee and pizza from my mouth, that would be even greater, thanks. 

I also generally have a bit of baby sick on me somewhere. Which is nice. My showers, albeit daily, are generally quite brief cos a certain little Turd Blossom has decided he’s going to now scream as soon as I step into the shower. We had that down as well, he would lay in his cocoon mattress thing and listen to a bit of gangster rap and be happy as Larry, but as with any routine I get into, he decides he’s over that shit. What a nob.*

The thing that hasn’t changed is my awesome footwear, so if you see a puddle of a person struggling in Tesco car park with a pram but she has on gold Converse or bright pink Doc Martens, it’ll be me. Just throw me some pizza. 

I did however get a manicure and a pedicure this week. Hence the picture, my nails look cool and I’ve gained a tiny bit of me back. Although I’m so pleased my mum tipped the pedicure girl well, she earnt it 😷 sorry about that, don’t quit your job. 

*Disclaimer-I adore my child but he can be a bit of a nob sometimes. And since I carried him for nearly 10 months I earned the right to call him out on his nobbiness. 

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