About Me

To paraphrase a blogger who is far more glamorous than me, like London needs another working mum blogging about her life. But hey, sometimes when you have a laptop on your knees in between serving oven chips and leftovers and starting bedtime you wonder how you became that woman, why you did and how you feel about it. Sometimes I even probe further - who is THAT woman, and did I ever aspire to be her? Do I like her? Could I learn to? Which is why I've started this blog...

Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Hi Ho...


...To the snatch doctor we go. Today, we are back to nether region #nostigma folks. Flange assessment and physiotherapy awaits and Newborn and I are dressed to the nines in honour of the sunny day; he's in a still-glorious red, Nordic hand-me-down 'gro and I'm in a black and coral dress over linen trousers with sunglasses to salvage a sense of attractiveness and harness the summer mood.

I had a brief fashion dilemma - do I wear Mrs. Doubtfire-esque suck me in skin coloured pants or frilly knickers? As I'm going to bear (and bare) all and probably cough and piss and discuss poo and be prodded I don't know why that seems important, but because I have to find myself distractions I've gone for the ludicrous compromise of unattractive but shapely pants and shaving my legs.

We are chic and clenching and ready to rumble, wearing our anxieties with our very best togs. Here's hoping that a few months of squeezing will have done something improving and important. I haven't the strength of character to go into grizzly details, but I bloody hope things are on the up down there.

This said, as discussed on my guest post for crapatpregnancy, I do know my situation is not all that bad. I know lots of people who are piddling on their linen trousers in the dark and all alone. So my stresses about incontinence, and flipping and flapping about heading down to the depths of UCLH's Physiotherapy Dept, Urogynae Physiotherapy Dept no less, are nowhere near as bad as worrying about urogynea issues without an appointment and a sense that help is possible and on the way. In that spirit, you poor beleaguered flanged-out readers, I will report back.

5 comments:

  1. Good luck! Hope there's been an improvement (and I'm so bloody grateful that my issues in that department seem to have ended at delivery).

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  2. Loving the pant choice! Apologies for not commenting for a while, but I'm always reading. Hugs xx

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  3. Aw thank you ladies. If in doubt, the flesh coloured sucker-inners come out.

    I actually think Nick Sharratt should write a third volume of pants:

    Pants that suck and pants that tuck, pants when you don't give a fuck.

    Signed pants, refined pants, Tena-lady lined pants.

    Clever pants, hot weather pants, pants for wearing when you feel sad a small.

    Leather pants, end of your tether pants, when you've knackered up your nethers pants... we don't talk of them at all.

    Net pants, Wet pants, Give what you can get pants, pants which look sexy but leave you sore.

    Fly pants, guy pants, you don't even have to try pants, don't talk to me of dry pants (not likely any more).

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  4. (really should be a better sub for myself)

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