I’m feeling really stressed out. I’m in that Kitty Cat Preggo stage of complete and utter frustration. I’m happy, but snappy and when you can no longer CARRY the entire weight of your *bump* around anymore, your scalp is constantly itchy, you’re dehydrated, with achey legs, unstable back, pulling groin and God knows where and what else. (I honestly CANNOT move right now, without it feeling like i’m having to carry 22 sacks of midgets with me everywhere I go. You really just feel like you need it all to reach it’s big fricking finale. I want my baby ’Glamour Puss’ OUT, NOW…or i’m literally going to go insane.
I’ve spent the day on ‘timeout’ mode. Trying to pull myself together mentally. Loverboy’s decided to only NOW become rather terrified about the whole ‘having a baby’ thing. GREAT timing sir! *Frowns.* He is not only extremely worried when he sees me eat pineapples. (It’s mean to ‘bring on the birth’ a little faster.) Yet he’s also currently being yelled at, by my *inside* voice, for FEEDING me portions of spag bol, that are faaar tooo large. It’s wasteful. I’m a Glamour puss. I don’t eat like a truck driver. I eat like a healthy, happy, kitty cat of ‘ooh.’ (I actually began scooping large spoony lumps on meat and pasta off my plate and onto his with frustration.) Everything is building up upon me now. I feel under pressure, short tempered, feisty and FULL. (I’m also a llittle warm and would really appreciate a hot greek model type, in speedo’s to fan me down. Or my gay butler.)
When you only have a few days left until ‘You’re now a mummy’ time to confetti shower above you. There is nothing worse than the ‘wait.’ I can’t physical function now and my whole body weirdly feels like i have ants crawling all over it. I’m telling you, it’s the anxiety. My belly actually feels like you could stick a pin in it, *pop* it and not one but one million little people would run screaming out of it. Infact, the only good thing about today, other than the odd moments of love, was watching firemen from Coventry, have their ball sacks fely up by that blond Doctor on ‘Embarrassing Bodies.’ I swore that i needed to quit watching the sow, because everytime i sight something diseasey and tummy churny…i feel like i should perform a ‘diva faint’ in horror. However, then they produced 10 fireman, with their balls out and life was delicious once more.
Other than that, Pete’s been taking lots of preggo pictures of me, so we can remember these joyous final moments. Then i had to yell at him for taking pictures of random things like the TV, instead of saving the memory card for that little ‘having our first daughter’ thing we’re doing. MEN! *Rolls Eyes.* I totally miss my mum!
Okay, i’m going to bed now and because i feel immense pressure urging it’s way outward from my *bump.* 
Even my weave..(oh the weave) is making me feel all trapped. I’m TRAPPED by my own hairdo, for crying out loud! LOL. I’m going insane. It really doesn’t suit me as much as I thought.
I’v godda go. I’m in peach and frustrated. But I love you. Oh and don’t worry. I don’t think she’s on her way tonight. I only wish she was!
We’ve been playing ‘Million Pound Drop’ at home from our sofa. A show that Pete and i couldn’t do due to my absolute preggoness. Godo job we didn’t go on it really, as we managed to lose our entire MILLION after the first question. THEN decide we were gonna give ourselves another go…only to lose the MILLION again on the second question..and ALL because Pete is a rubbish guesser. Haha. Everytime, i listened to him…we lost ALL of our money! Lesson learnt. You can never put your life in the hands of a ‘handsome’ who loses 2 million imaginary pounds, in 7 minutes, especially when he’s cooking his Glamour Puss, who will need to get rid of all her baby weight in a weeks time, CARB
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