brain.
TO DO
Prepare notes and final Christmas fair figures for last CCL meeting of the year next week. Plan ‘unfussy, casual but flattering’ outfit. (that’s for my benefit, no one else’s.)
Start to buy Christmas presents and stocking fillers - teachers presents also. What to get for Dan? Think of surprise for Ned. (Oops, that should have been other way around!)
Organise a Christmas drinks party here for family and close friends - it’s the first time we’ve been able to afford to splash out so I think we should. Wonder if I should invite Dan in thanks for his help? - consult Fenella (actually, scrub that, got big mouth!)
Treat myself to some new clothes for the festive season - again, I’ve never been able to do it before so maybe I should have a pre-Christmas splurge. Might go for new, might stick with Oxfam.
Buy underwear - new, of course. Hopefully get me feeling like a sexy woman again and inject a bit of much needed spark into our comatose love-life.
Fully accept that I lost a baby and I won’t be having another one - looks so easy when I see it written down on paper but I just can’t seem to get my brain to grasp it. Part of me has gone missing and yet it’s always there in the back of my mind. How can something be gone but also still be there?
Have sex - again, so easy on paper.
PM
Tried to broach the subject of our relationship with Ned tonight and asked him why he thinks we’re not really connecting at the moment.
He sipped at his drink thoughtfully and looked out of the window. “I don’t know Lib, I guess I started off by trying to give you time and space and now I just feel like I’m being pushed away.”
Went over to him and kissed him and I tried to make it turn into more, I really did. But I felt nothing. And I knew he could sense it.
Ned turned and left the room and I was left feeling even worse than ever.
Tuesday 25 th November
Max came home from school and decided to write his letter to Father Christmas. So simple when you’re young, you put all your wants on a list and more often than not old Santa shoves them down the chimney.
If only adulthood was like that!
Dear Father Christmas
Please help me to love my husband again. He’s my best friend and I feel like I don’t deserve him at the moment.
Please make sure no one takes him away from me.
Please make me normal again.
Thank you
Mummy Misfit.
Wednesday 26 th November
Fenella stopped me at school this morning and asked me why I had such a long face. “Come on misery-guts, let’s go for a spot of knicker shopping. Buy some bras that make us look like we’ve had boob jobs. Heaven help me, I need one with these puppies.” And she shoved her chest out. “Can you imagine what they’d be like if I intended to breast feed?” She stopped and did a nervous little cough. “Oh God, Lib, I’m sorry. I know why you’re miz, of course I do. I just don’t think. You know what I’m like, dopey trollop!”
Told her not to be daft and agreed that cup-sizes and gussets may well take my mind off things.
PM
Well that’s the last time I go to ‘Rigby and Peller’ - lunacy, absolute lunacy.
Aside from the fact that I refuse to spend eighty pounds on a bra, regardless of now having the means, the place was heaving with Manor Housers and some other equally obnoxious mothers maxing out the credit cards on daft bits of lace and frills.
This was a whole new world to me. I don’t want a sales assistant honing in on me with her eyes to determine I’m a 38D - it’s just spooky. It’s like some kind of ‘tit-radar’. Take me to M&S to a pleasantly rounded lady with a tape measure around her neck and do it the old fashioned way, please.
I told Fenella I wouldn’t be buying anything but that I was quite happy to wait while she did.
“Oh come on, Sweedie.
TO DO
Prepare notes and final Christmas fair figures for last CCL meeting of the year next week. Plan ‘unfussy, casual but flattering’ outfit. (that’s for my benefit, no one else’s.)
Start to buy Christmas presents and stocking fillers - teachers presents also. What to get for Dan? Think of surprise for Ned. (Oops, that should have been other way around!)
Organise a Christmas drinks party here for family and close friends - it’s the first time we’ve been able to afford to splash out so I think we should. Wonder if I should invite Dan in thanks for his help? - consult Fenella (actually, scrub that, got big mouth!)
Treat myself to some new clothes for the festive season - again, I’ve never been able to do it before so maybe I should have a pre-Christmas splurge. Might go for new, might stick with Oxfam.
Buy underwear - new, of course. Hopefully get me feeling like a sexy woman again and inject a bit of much needed spark into our comatose love-life.
Fully accept that I lost a baby and I won’t be having another one - looks so easy when I see it written down on paper but I just can’t seem to get my brain to grasp it. Part of me has gone missing and yet it’s always there in the back of my mind. How can something be gone but also still be there?
Have sex - again, so easy on paper.
PM
Tried to broach the subject of our relationship with Ned tonight and asked him why he thinks we’re not really connecting at the moment.
He sipped at his drink thoughtfully and looked out of the window. “I don’t know Lib, I guess I started off by trying to give you time and space and now I just feel like I’m being pushed away.”
Went over to him and kissed him and I tried to make it turn into more, I really did. But I felt nothing. And I knew he could sense it.
Ned turned and left the room and I was left feeling even worse than ever.
Tuesday 25 th November
Max came home from school and decided to write his letter to Father Christmas. So simple when you’re young, you put all your wants on a list and more often than not old Santa shoves them down the chimney.
If only adulthood was like that!
Dear Father Christmas
Please help me to love my husband again. He’s my best friend and I feel like I don’t deserve him at the moment.
Please make sure no one takes him away from me.
Please make me normal again.
Thank you
Mummy Misfit.
Wednesday 26 th November
Fenella stopped me at school this morning and asked me why I had such a long face. “Come on misery-guts, let’s go for a spot of knicker shopping. Buy some bras that make us look like we’ve had boob jobs. Heaven help me, I need one with these puppies.” And she shoved her chest out. “Can you imagine what they’d be like if I intended to breast feed?” She stopped and did a nervous little cough. “Oh God, Lib, I’m sorry. I know why you’re miz, of course I do. I just don’t think. You know what I’m like, dopey trollop!”
Told her not to be daft and agreed that cup-sizes and gussets may well take my mind off things.
PM
Well that’s the last time I go to ‘Rigby and Peller’ - lunacy, absolute lunacy.
Aside from the fact that I refuse to spend eighty pounds on a bra, regardless of now having the means, the place was heaving with Manor Housers and some other equally obnoxious mothers maxing out the credit cards on daft bits of lace and frills.
This was a whole new world to me. I don’t want a sales assistant honing in on me with her eyes to determine I’m a 38D - it’s just spooky. It’s like some kind of ‘tit-radar’. Take me to M&S to a pleasantly rounded lady with a tape measure around her neck and do it the old fashioned way, please.
I told Fenella I wouldn’t be buying anything but that I was quite happy to wait while she did.
“Oh come on, Sweedie.
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