I’m back! Already! After just one day!
Obviously this means that one of my hundreds of New Year’s Resolutions is to write more often.
The other main one is to clean the flat but I still haven’t done that. I’m using morning sickness as an excuse, especially since I threw up three times this morning and was feeling too ropey even to go to Topshop, so ended staying in all day, apart from one ill-fated trip to Asda, which turned out to be closed.
Along with the sickness, this morning I noticed a new and alarming Disgusting Pregnancy Symptom.
I have developed weird brown spots on my nipples.
Obviously this required instant googling to check that it wasn’t breast cancer. Kylie wasn’t much older than me when she had breast cancer was she? How old was she? God I should know this, as a proud owner of the Kylie Annual 1988.
Also, whatever happened to annuals? Do the youngsters still get them for Christmas every year? Is there, in fact, such a thing as the One Direction Annual 2014, for example? I’m going back on the Google to check.
There is, look!
My faith in humanity is restored.
Oh God now I have “One Direction Annual 2014” stored in the saved searches on my computer. Does this make me a suspected peodophile? The spelling of that last word there might be wrong, but I am not checking that on the Google. Definitely not.
Anyway, it’s 7.30pm now so I might go to bed soon. There’s nothing on TV to keep me awake, as with it being New Year’s Day and all, all the TV presenters and other people involved in putting programmes on the television have got the day off, so all they are showing is films. Old films I’ve seen a million times, like the Karate Kid and Big, but not, it would seem, Brilliant Old Films that one would welcome watching again for the millionth time, like Grease 2 or Dirty Dancing. The other day I thought I had stumbed across Short Circuit but it turned out to be a disappointing modern lookalike called Wall E. When the baby is born, I will make sure it watches all the old classics. Especially Grease 2. Everyone needs a good strong feminist message like “I ain’t nobody’s trophy.”
Anyway, now I am totally off the point. I was supposed to be talking about the brown patches on my areolas.
What, nobody wants to hear about that? Well, I’ll be off then.