dune bashing in it, but it whips in and out of the Abu Dhabi traffic like a demon. Whoops! - nearly missed my turn off? - no worries, I can weave dangerously through four lanes of traffic in a jiffy - no one will even notice. Plus parking spaces in AD aren't as generous as Qatar, so it's just as well i've gone petite...
If only I could say the same about my expanding waist. 'Petite' and 'nippy' are not words that describe me at the moment - in fact 'bloated' and 'immobile' are the words that come lumbering to mind. I signed up with a new doctor yesterday who warned me I had already exceeded the maximum recommended weight gain for a pregnant lady - with ten weeks of growing still to go. This is not good. I have taken a few liberties at the dessert trolley - i'll admit - and maybe two dozen or so almond croissants that weren't strictly necessary, but I thought that was the whole point of getting knocked up*? Why did I go through three months of sickness and depression if it wasn't so I could gorge myself on cheesecake and crisps*? Now i'm having to gorge myself on low fat yoghurts and trail mix instead. I can tell the boy doesn't like it, his kicks have become more aggressive, almost as if he's saying 'Mum - eat some ice cream' - but what can I do? It's doctors orders.
*As well as miracle of life etc...
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