It's been one of those days when all your mind can really focus on is: "Right, what am I going to cook for dinner tonight?" when it's barely even lunch yet. I was asked to tag along on a shopping-spree in Primark, which I happily obliged to, and bought myself half a dozen rainbow-colored panties. Primark is tailor-made for bingeing on useless underwear, especially while the mind is busy concocting a recipe using that lone courgette in the fridge that might have to be soon thrown away, if Tesco's expiry date is to be trusted.
I finally got to dinnertime and revelled in cooking myself pseudo-chilli sin carne. I'm not a vegetarian, but despite the day's calculations, I had forgotten to defrost minced meat.
And, now, my stomach is so fat and big that I feel like I may just give birth to a whole honey-mustard roast chicken in time for tomorrow's lunch. And people still insist my little non-pregnant tummy is sexy...
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