So, there you are (this is two weeks ago and a bit, now. The dress was a total find -- how could I have forgotten thrift shops existed in my pregnant haze is beyond me -- from Oxfam and it cost me all of £6. Sadly, the Nokia E71 I thought was such a great little number is a piece of crap so the picture looks a bit odd and you can't see my shoes (also from oxfam, which are this great oxblood brown leather - £5! 5 freaking pounds!) but seriously, I've not been very good at documenting this whole pregnancy wardrobe thing.
Tonight is your first black tie dinner at the East India Club, for which I am wearing an Isabella Oliver gown (black, sadly, although if I had been a bit faster off the mark, you'd be wearing this gorgeous Temperely number in a Teal green. Phwoar), with Hellenic jewelery that your Papa bought for me (read, I bought, handed to him and said 'Give this to me. It is a hanukkah present.' -- In fairness to your Pa, he has excellent taste in jewelry and design but he's been busy and well, I wanted this necklace, bracelet, and earring set and it was on sale, etc.) Your Papa, as I have hinted will be in black tie. We will have fun. I will try not to bare my teeth at anyone.
You've been a busy bee this week, lightly tap-dancing your way across my belly. I feel very enamoured of you, as though you are some sort of wild, exotic creature I've managed to coax into visiting. We have had no doctor's appointments this week (I know! What will we do with ourselves) but I am fighting off yet another cold -- sigh -- and it promises to be a doozey.
And now, off to the hair dressers. We won't discuss how I've forgotten my evening shoes so will be going around the dining room in stocking feet. The dress is long and my ankles look like chubby hairless dachshunds.
Next time, I shall horrify and embarrass you on the importance of grooming during pregnancy. I know. You're so looking forward to the outside world.