Pregnancy’s a Bitch

Women’s hormones are already a bitch prior to pregnancy and without the dreaded pre-menstrual tension you’d think that pregnancy would finally cut us a break from our menstrual cycle and it’s mishaps. Nope. My pregnancy is basically looking to be a nine-month bitch-fest. All the symptoms of PMT are definitely still present and even stronger than ever. Perhaps even on steroids. Lucky them considering I’m not even allowed pre-workout at the moment.

Every time an event happens that I feel like I’m missing out on (mostly because I am extremely envious of everyone else carelessly downing bottles of wine), it has the potential to trigger WWIII with my boyfriend. He is the one who cops it most, because in my sometimes-unreasonable opinion, he is pregnant too (or should be).

Other things that trigger my meltdowns are when the peanut butter is finished, slow drivers and mostly male customers. I have suddenly turned into a feminist extremist, even wanting to go and see the new Wonder Woman movie (why?). But still, my boyfriend expertly deals with the brunt of my madness and does an amazing job at it. I also have a newfound tendency to get mad at him for so selfishly doing an extra sesh at the gym without consulting me first. Although I know I’m being incredibly irrational, its tiny things like this that have me taking new boyfriend applications- not that anybody could deal with me right now (apart from maybe Shrek, he’s good at slaying dragons).

So with my daily meltdowns, I’ve started to curate a list of things that make me happy when wine and sushi are out of the picture.

The first is exercise. Although it’s one of the last things I feel like doing some days and its also incredibly frustrating feeling like I’m slowly becoming less fit despite my regular gym sessions, I still feel immensely better after a workout. I was a reasonably fit person pre-pregnancy and loved being able to see some muscle definition thanks to my workouts, but for now the rush of endorphins will have to suffice as my ass grows slowly wider. The gym is one of the only things that makes me feel calm some days and not like I belong in a mental asylum. It’s also imperative to my hypothetical search for a new boyfriend every time Chris doesn’t reply to my message for more than an hour.

The second is treating myself. I used to be quite low-maintenance, only getting my hair done twice a year and my brows once every two months if they were lucky. Now I’m all about that expensively beautiful life. Whenever I feel sad I get my nails done. Anxious? Lashes done. Fat? New Double Wear foundation. The way I see it is my happiness is the most important thing to keep my baby healthy and my demons from tearing my poor boyfriend to shreds so if one treat a week is going to keep me sane, then so be it. It’s also probably costing less than you spend on your weekly wine Mum, if you’re shaking your head whilst reading this.

Finally, I like to make myself feel better by calling my friends really early on a Sunday to wake them from their comas and find out how bad their hangovers are. Because I definitely do not miss the hangovers. Told you this is just a nine-month bitch fest. XO

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