Ever catch sight of yourself in a big shop window and wonder what it is?

No wonder you don’t recognise this bow legged hunch backed blob lurching slowly towards you.  Non descript, dead camel hair clumped around a pale unmadeup face.  Big bruised red/yellow eyes, wide with shock.

Misshapen body oozing from your grey, pre pregnancy track suit.  Tummy flobbing downwards over the top of your elasticated track bottoms, Huge distended boobs, so sore you have to hunch over as contact with anything makes you wince in pain.  Crab like hobbling because your bath towel sized jumbo Kotex is slipping (knew you should have bought some elastic legged knickers – these bikini briefs just don’t work)

Trying to unobtrusively stop the ‘fail safe’ Kotex wings from sticking to the already red raw chafe of your inside thighs.           

In fact you are oozing from everywhere.  Big wet patches around your boobs, Your frenzied hormones have the collywobbles, causing you to tear up unexpectedly or come to an instant boil, sweating even from your ears as your own geyser pumps out  steaming great clots.

 

Why don’t those magazine photos of slim, serene madonna’s showing off their offspring even hint at the real joys of motherhood.  The raw pain of cracked nipples, mastitis, fierce constipation, piles and toothache.  And the painful, intensly deep  contractions that start as soon as your bundle of joy starts sucking on your bloated, mouldy looking, melon sized protuberances.  In fact you are a mess from your shoulders to your knees – no even further!  You still have your pregnancy swollen ankles and your colourful varicose veins.

 

Your stitches so sore you have to sit on a ‘doughnut’, you cant lie down because your boobs pull and throb.

 

That vicious, old maid of a matron has slit you from front to back, 28 stitches inside and out.  Even your  bottom will be scarred!