"At the beginning of 2010 I came across my diary from last year. I had a quick flick through and was hit with the realisation of exactly how much my life has changed since January ’09. My diary is littered with words like ‘Golden Globes’, ‘Baftas’, ‘Brits’ and ‘The Oscars’ – all of which my working life revolved around...

Fast forward a year and my January is barren. The pages are a wasteland of days and dates and woefully empty pages. My poor, poor moleskin must have been sobbing into its perfectly intact spine at such a pitiful sight..."

Tuesday 6 April 2010

Working Out

Oh exercise, my old friend. It’s been so long. I’ve just put together a running playlist, including

I’m all hyped up and ready to squeeze my big wobbly bum into my running leggings of last year. But, I have some questions…
1) Will it come to 7am, Bubs in bed, The Kiwi home, dinner plans a-go-go, and I be tempted to crack open the vino and veg on the couch rather than hoppety-skippeting up the road?
2) How on earth will I strap my gargantuan bazoongas down while I run? Last year my boobs were incy-wincy and I could flatten them down to pancake proportions with a runners top. What now? Gaffer tape?
3) Will I run around the block once, get halfway through the first song, then give up and never venture out in my trainers no never, no more?

Last year I was still yoga’ing at this point, until the big realisation. At my next Hatha class I told the teacher, who mentioned the ‘M’ word again. I was SO shocked. She said that this was the riskiest time for pregnancy, and concluded with ‘I am neither a pre-natal yoga teacher, or a mother, so I cannot tell you what to do here.’ Obvu, I left the class and slagged her off all day. But I was also well too scared to carry on exercising, and what will all the pre-eclampsia m’larkey, I haven’t done much in the way of working out since then.

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