Having my baby...

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Oh, who doesn't love a migraine....but thank you for all your lovely comments yesterday. It meant a lot knowing that someone was thinking about me out there as I cursed every thing I could think of for several hours.

I'd like to be able to blame it on some night of alcoholic debauchery, or a Camembert orgy, or even on burying my head in all the Easter eggs which Tesco are selling at 50p, ripping them free of the purple foil with my teeth in a Cadbury frenzy.  But it was none of these. It was merely a 'you're a middle aged woman in the middle of the menopause, thinking you can hide behind those fancy HRT patches.  You can run, but you can't hide from me, lady...'

I'd actually put it down to the 2lb bag of grapes which I ate on Wednesday.  I'm British, and as you know, we all prefer to be able to blame ourselves when something goes wrong, rather than letting an outside influence take all the credit.

The grapes had brought on their own problems though, meaning the migraine was the least of my worries on Thursday afternoon.  My stomach looked like it had regained all the weight lost this year, and I'm very relieved that I didn't have to take any public transport and go through the embarrassment of having a seat given up for me. What do you do when this happens, by the way?  It's not going to happen to me ever again unless the seat is given up because I look ancient, but being confused for a lady in the throes of 'up-the-duff-dom' must be a difficult one to handle.  

Two options...

'Thank you, you're very kind'.  
Take seat and enjoy remainder of journey in comfort

'Are you saying I look fat?' (this screamed at top of voice to cause maximum embarrassment to seat owner).  
Seat owner shuffles to front of bus, while rest of bus occupants jeer.  
Take seat and enjoy remainder of journey in comfort.

Either way, you're a winner...

A similar thing happened to the husband at a wedding several years ago.  He had disappeared to 'mingle' and eventually returned, sporting a perfect hand print across his left cheek.

'Oh my goodness', I said.  'What happened to you?'

Rubbing his rosy cheek, the husband pointed to a lady across that room.  'See that lady?'

'Who, the pregnant one?'  I asked.

'Exactly', he said in a very satisfied way.

Men.  They never learn do they?  


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