Back to work blues

As the end of maternity leave creeps ever-closer, Mummy is finally having to come to terms with the fact that her post-baby body-bounce-back did not go entirely to plan, because… cake and sofa.

Reality hit last week when Mummy went back to visit work for the day and was determined she absolutely could squeeze herself into her pre-baby work wardrobe. After much huffing and wriggling and breathing in, Mummy eventually got the button done up on her oh-so-smart trousers, and punched the air triumphantly.

“Do you think I have a muffin-top?” Mummy asked Daddy, squinting at the ample rolls of baby-flab spilling over her waistband. Daddy didn’t even look up from his computer, having already memorised the correct answer to all such questions.

“Absolutely not,” said Daddy sensibly. Daddy knows that sometimes it is better to lie than to be helpful. Mummy is more than aware she doesn’t just have a muffin-top, but the whole muffin. Probably more like a three-tier Victoria sponge, in fact. She decides this can be covered with a floaty top and distracting jewellery, so as not to diminish the sense of success and achievement from actually getting the button done up. She may not be able to sit down, but that is ok. Mummy will introduce a new standing-desk policy and claim it is for efficiency and productivity, like they do in fancy offices on the telly.

Unfortunately, Mummy had to spend the whole day at work doing interviews. The interviews started at 9:15am. By 9:17am, Mummy no longer had circulation in her thighs.

Therefore, with a heavy heart, Mummy has ventured out today in search of a temporary work wardrobe, that she will only need in the very short term, until her body-bounce-back happens. Which it will.

“Can I help you?” asks the nice lady in the fancy clothes shop. It occurs to Mummy that she has worn leggings and Daddy’s jumpers for so long, she can’t actually remember what people wear in the normal world. She also has no idea what size she is, except that it is not the lovely size eight she had been her entire life up until a year ago. Mummy makes the mistake of admitting this to the lady in the shop.

“Ooooooh…” says the lady eyeing Mummy up and down, “I’m pretty good at telling what size people are.” The lady in the shop guesses what size Mummy is. Mummy is not impressed and makes to leave the shop, but she is being laden with clothes to try on and cannot escape.

“Oh, I do not think I am quite that size…” Mummy protests. She tries on the clothes anyway. They all fit. Bugger.

“Any good?” trills the oh-so-helpful assistant.

“Absolutely not, they are very massive and do not fit at all!” says Mummy, thrusting the clothes back and flouncing out of the shop, in search of somewhere that does vanity sizing.

Much trawling through high street shops proves fruitless, until Mummy stumbles into White Stuff, lured by the sale rail and promise of free biscuits (… for the children!)  It is here that she comes across the most brilliant and ingenious invention that possibly ever existed: smart work trousers with elasticated waistbands! Yes, it is likely that the target market is women over fifty, but Mummy does not see why she should wait that long to enjoy such a treat. She tries them on in a size ten and they fit like a glove. Vanity sizing at its best, thinks Mummy.  She glances at the price tag and realises she will have to take off at least twenty quid when she tells Daddy… but that is neither here nor there.  You cannot put a price on lower leg circulation, she decides.

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