15 July 2013

Seven

Brace yourself.

I'm going to shout.

Ready?!....

"Seven!"

What popped into your head?

Brad Pitt finding Gwynnie's head in a box?

Len Goodman?

Usually it's one of the above but today it is something much more pleasant.

Seven years ago I was huge. And hot. And getting prepared to be an earth mother and have my baby in a birthing pool with minimal pain relief. BAHA.

Fast forward a few hours and I was flat out on my back, up to my eye balls - pretty much literally - on drugs and having my tummy muscles ruined for life by an NHS scalpel due to a beady eyed midwife realising Edith's head was in fact her arse. (Every year I say a silent thank you to that midwife as every other professional that prodded me that day believed it was a head.)

Anyhow, fast forward seven years and I have this...