Well today I was thrown from my safe haven of cuddliness and curves into the harsh reality that most of my winter clothes aren't going to fit.
After a dull summer of getting by with the usual required amount of vests, cropped trousers, skirts, dresses and sandals I was suddenly agape at my wardrobe.
Why? Rain. Wind. And anything else Mother Nature chose to throw our way.
The sudden realisation that I couldn't go out in my 'baggy stuff' hit home and I grabbed my jeans, boots and cardi from the wardrobe.
All went well - button done up, zip decided to strain a little but I thought 'hey, at least I don't have to lie horizontally and use a coat hanger to cover the belly'. Anyway, boots next. And therein lay the problem... sitting down, ie bending. I thought I was going to be drawn and quartered, well cut in two at least. As I heavy breathed, I managed to get the boots on and decided it was infinitely safer to stand up straight until it was time to go out.
Luckily at that point in time, all I had to do was walk the school run and make my way home. Which I did, until I got about 200 yards from the front door. I felt like a lost Legionnaire stumbling across the desert who had spotted an oasis in the distance. An oasis that was there, but so far away. My front door was that oasis and I was panting for breath just like my imaginary Legionnaire, stumbling up the path.
Water, water. Unzip, unzip.
My beautiful oasis provided me, not with water, but with my comfy leggings and baggy top. Not to mention my slipper socks.
And the hardhitting thought that if I don't buy new clothes or diet I could be embarassing my kids at the school gates. I mean no child wants to see their Mum in black socks and sandals, do they?