I don’t want a pregnancy book. I don’t want a pregnancy pillow. I don’t want a maternity top. I don’t want stretch-mark cream. I don’t want a Nurti-Bullet (so I can stay healthy now AND whip up nutritious baby meals once the baby arrives – a double present!!). I don’t want support shoes. I don’t want a slogan t-shirt ( “Napping for Two” “ Knocked Up” “Hot Mama” and “Pregalicious” being the worst offenders*)
Guess what I want? Charlotte Tilbury Make-Up. Afternoon Tea at the Westbury. I want a Chupi signet ring with my initials on it. I want any and all of the things that a) are about me (me, me, ME) and b) are frivolous, luxurious things that I will never be able to indulge in after the pregnancy. I want eyelash extensions. I want a beautiful, structured handbag .I want an Abigail Ahern Wall Mounted Rhino Head. I want a bronze and marble side-table. I want whimsical, fluffy, beautiful things…things that I will treasure and enjoy and admire and luxuriate in. Any of these items received post-baby will seem trivial and useless and utterly impractical. So right now, I’m stamping my feet and shaking my head and throwing a mini-tantrum…because it’s the last time in my life I can be truly selfish.
Pretty soon it’s going to be nappies and bottles and nipple-cream and carseats and miniature nautical stripes and tutus and dungarees and jaunty hats. Which I can’t wait for (perhaps not the nipple cream…), but until then, I want a tutu!
Plus, I kinda know that Baby would approve. I think Baby appreciates fabulous things and would want Mommy to hang onto her Ab-Fab ways for as long as possible.
*I am partial to the “We’re Hoping for a Unicorn” though