Friday, 2 December 2016


I spent the whole of my pregnancy planning to go to a Pilates class. Once, I even went, well I spent 40 mins in traffic, missed the class and came straight home and ate a sharing size bag of minstrels.

Finally admitting defeat that I was never going to make it to a class I took to doing a home DVD and picking and choosing the parts I liked to do. I wasn't what you'd call committed but I did it regularly enough and combined with walking I seemed to retain something that looked like abs. 

Fast forward a few months and there I am carefully putting Harry down in his v shape pillow on the teddy bear play mat, trying to trick him into not noticing he has been moved from my bed. 

Pilates DVD on and I'm ready to go...not that you'd know that from looking at me as I'm fullly dressed in jeans and jumper. Not your traditional Pilates work out gear but there's no way Harry will be fooled long enough for me to get changed. 

Workout underway, a minute to go and Harry wakes up, purses his lips and fills his nappy and the room with that oh so delightful smell. 12 weeks into parenting and I've already sussed that you spend a lot of time talking about and looking at poo. So trust me when I say this one needed urgent attention if I didn't want to be washing pillows and blankets and the living room floor. 

So there you have it. 10 mins of Pilates in my jeans and jumper brought to an abrupt end by poo. Just in case I'd forgotten for a moment too long that I'm Harry's mummy. 

I'm planning on starting a Pilates class in the new year. Ha. 

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