I met with my trainer this morning. I pay her to make me do things I hate. As we ran around the perimeter of Airways Hotel surrounded by the scent of rotting mangoes (quite off-putting for an already very off-putting situation ie. running up massive hills in tropical heat), I dragged my sweating exhausted ass behind her and felt shame. Shame that at 6 months pregnant - she was still beating me. Shame that the guy pouring the concrete looked at her scoot on by then looked at my panting life form some 5 minutes later and began to laugh. This woman is only part human.
And to this evening ...
My poor overworked H-band-to-be dragged his tired ass into the sanctity of the home only to be met with more 'friendly reminders' from me about some further deadlines he had this evening. Hello wedding planning. In full swing.
As I write this I am trying not to watch 4 Corners but cannot help it. They seem to be running a feature on a 'dodgy telco sham' that involves a Nail Bar and lots of women who need to get their roots done. Umm ... ABC, I don't know how to say this but you look a little bit Today Tonight.
To close - our lovely baby uttered her first sentence today. I admit that it passed me by ... but luckily for Emerald her other Mummy figure was there to advise me of massive milestone.
Drumroll ...
"I want biccy."
A few points:
- Further work on 'please' required.
- Mummy needs to start leading by example and stop eating so many 'biccys'.
Over.
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