“I am getting fit today!” declares Mummy, “It is the new year and I will have my pre-baby body back.” Mummy is aware she is eleven days late for the new year, but there was no point in losing weight while there was still Christmas food in the house, so she instead worked hard to get rid of it all as quickly as possible and consequently now has considerably more weight to lose. But hey, in for a penny in for a pound… or ten.
“Don’t worry if you can’t manage all the exercises first time, you have just had a baby!” says the impossibly flexible Pilates instructor. Mummy is delighted to have found a class with such low expectations and certainly does not mention she could not have done any of the exercises before childbirth, let alone after. She exerts just about enough effort to show willing and very much enjoys the lying-down bit at the end.
Feeling jolly pleased with herself for burning off at least six calories, Mummy is obviously deserving of hot chocolate and probably cake on the way home – she would not want to waste away too quickly, and knows that ‘everything in moderation’ is very important. Going cold turkey on the Christmas food could be very bad for her indeed.
A lovely coffee shop lady carries Mummy’s tray to the table as clearly Mummy has exerted herself enough for one morning. But Rebel Baby judges Mummy for her weak-willed self-indulgence and, determined to save Mummy from herself, lunges forcibly towards the awaiting beverage.
There is hot chocolate in Mummy’s boots, all over Mummy’s lap, and all over the floor. There is hot chocolate all over The Baby, who is already sucking her toes in delight at her unexpected good fortune. Mummy is unbelievably glad the coffee shop serve disappointingly tepid drinks.
The lovely coffee shop lady is apologising profusely and so is Mummy. They both know it was RB’s fault entirely, but they are British and that is the Only Proper Thing To Do. The man at the nearby table facing in the opposite direction is not apologising and he probably should be. RB, on the other hand, is squealing with delight and licking chocolate off the sofa.
It takes an excessive quantity of paper towels and wet wipes to clear up the mess, and Mummy has to empty her boots into the sink to get rid of it all. Luckily RB has a change of clothes but Mummy does not, and her wet leggings are sticking to her skin in a very unsightly fashion. It is only a few minutes’ walk home, thank goodness.
Just as RB is changed and dry, the lovely coffee shop lady arrives with a replacement drink and free cake, because she thinks it was All Her Fault. Being British, of course, Mummy stays and drinks it, her leggings slowly sticking to the sofa as they start to dry. Lovely.
This is what happens when you try to lose weight, thinks Mummy.