11.37 now. I’m at work. I’m bored. It’s late for me as I’d usually be on my way out the door by now after my token daily office visit. Today is different. I have an interview for a job I don’t want at 5.30. I don’t remember the last time I had to be in the City at 5.30. Let alone to so something that really is a waste of time. However, I still need to look keen and professional (hence no cancelling at the last minute for me). I can’t bring myself to turn down a job opportunity just yet, even though I am supposed to be comfortable in my decision to quit the City as and when this redundancy finally happens. In the meantime, I am sitting tight, still getting paid so can’t complain. Continue Reading

Forget body brushing or at least forget body brushing alone (yes I still believe it helps with overall well-being and keeps my cellulite at bay but I need more!). I’m ballooning and it scary. Still not down to the foetus growing at lightening speed inside me (lime-sized apparently, now that I’m in week ten), but those bloody steroids. Trofolastin is going to be my miracle cure. One can but hope. It’s semi-researched,ordered (sold in Spain, made by Novartis, that well reputed Swiss pharma company and has had good results in some small trials in Germany) and winging its way over from a pharmacy in Mallorca as you read this. I’m sold, at least for now. It’s the best there seem to be out there at the moment. Everything else available to us pregnant expanding creatures makes miracle claims, has loads of cash thrown at marketing but doesn’t seem to come up with the goods. Plus, even if you read independent reviews ( if you can actually find any), they are impossible to rely upon because the woman who used Clarins body oil and claims to have no stretch marks after pregnancy may never have developed them even if she’d slathered Hellmann’s mayonnaise on daily instead of the oil costing twenty times the price. Anyway, of course I’ll let you know how it goes. Continue Reading