I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about pregnancy. I mean really...who the chuff designed this thing? Humans are, without doubt, the most inefficient breeders. Not only is pregnancy riddled with some serious malfunctioning shit, at the end of it you only have two pretty terrifying options: heave the new human out of your woman funnel or have someone cut you open and pull it out. After all these years, surely we could have evolved a more appealing method?

But for now, let's forget about the end-game. No one really wants to spend THAT much time pondering the ins and outs (admittedly, more 'outs' than 'ins) of giving birth so let's, for now, focus on the nine months before. Ahhh...now you mention it, that's a good place to start.


    You are pregnant for ten months. Yep that's right. Everything you've ever been told about pregnancy is a big, fat lie. There are 40 weeks of pregnancy and, even though I'm not known for my proficiency with numbers, I am pretty sure that makes ten months and not nine. It's the first of many lies regarding pregnancy.


    I think that somewhere along the millennia, this game of Chinese whispers got totally screwed up and if it wasn't so soul-destroying it would be funny. When we all thought they were saying, 'You're blooming!' they were actually saying, 'You're ballooning!' Same goes for 'You're glowing.' Wrong again: "Fuck me, you're growing.'


    OK, so this doesn't happen to everyone but I am bitter to my core about the varicose veins that are popping up over my legs on a daily basis. My previously smooth, athletic, toned legs are rapidly turning into a topographic map of the Himalayas. Blue spider veins and bulging lumps are not only very unsightly, they're also incredibly itchy and painful and make me want to chew my own legs off. Fake tan goes some way to hiding the carnage but essentially my children have forever ruined my legs and for this I shall never forgive them. Ever.


    In London no one talks to anyone. It's a fact of life that we're all pretty happy with. In fact, we think it's weird and a bit irritating when someone tries to make polite small talk on the tube. It's a sure fire sign that they're not from London and we have no time for such friendliness. However, a burgeoning bumps seems to be an invitation to ask you some of the most intimate questions. So far in this pregnancy, I've been asked the following by total strangers: Did you have a natural first birth? Can I touch your bump? When did you fall pregnant? Do you want a boy or a girl? And, my personal favourite: Does the pain of childbirth scare you? Erm, not until you just mentioned it so thanks for that.


    Another lie. They won't. At first you'll think it's just water retention and it's temporary. You'll resort to flip flops in winter because it's the only damn thing you can get on your feet and you'll comfort yourself with the image of all your pretty shoes just waiting to be worn post-pregnancy. Well, let me tell you this. The swelling will go but your feet may never be the same size again. I'm a size bigger than I was before I had my first Small and if I go up another size with this one, I'll be buying my shoes at the same place as Caitlyn Jenner.

There's more - so much more - I could talk about but honestly I'm over it plus I have to go and scratch my lumpy legs until they bleed.