Today, while being driven around Ibiza, I learned that pregnancy has made me hyper sensitive to any challenge to my personal safety. MUST PROTECT THE BUMP.

There are just too many things happening in my little world to remember about this blog. I’ll try to do better. I should probably set a reminder on my phone, shouldn’t I? I don’t suppose I’ve been taking it seriously enough.

It’s funny how we make excuses for ourselves that really don’t stand up to scrutiny. I’ve totally forgotten all about this blog for the last day and a half. Which is a different issue entirely from procrastinating the writing of it. But there is an equally simple solution. Find a way to remind myself.

I’m heading off on holiday tomorrow, which will undoubtedly lead to even more reasons to not write. But there will be some easy solutions to any of them. I could have even planned in advance to have some posts ready. I had thought of that, but I wondered if it would be cheating. And I’m still not sure.

And now I should finish my hasty holiday preparations.

So this week we moved house, and, shock horror, I actually missed a day! And then I pointed it out and didn’t even make up for it with a good following post!

We are going on holiday at the weekend. To Ibiza. Which is a bit weird. But also very exciting. It might even be sunny.

I want to swim if it’s even the slightest bit warm enough to do so, which means I require a bathing suit of some kind. I have already discounted all the ‘maternity’ options with their weird bump flaps. and what have you. I have decided on a bikini. I just can’t find one.

So tonight I asked my mother to go bikini shopping and must have spent about an hour in the fitting rooms trying on all the viable options I could find. Half of that time was probably taken up by taking the bikinis off their hangers and putting the bikinis back on their hangers. Another good chunk was just me standing there while my Mummy Dearest got me some different sizes.

And that was the freaky part. Standing there close to naked in front of three mirrors, under very illuminating lights. I have not had such a good look at myself in a very long time. And I look weird. And it started making me feel weird. I couldn’t even figure out exactly how I was feeling about the person I was looking at, but I was glad when I didn’t have to do it anymore.

I didn’t find a bikini, because none of the things that went together were quite the right size, and I’m not quite ready to be the pregnant lady in the clashing mismatched bikini. Maybe once I’ve exhausted my options again tomorrow I will reconsider my position.

I wonder if looking at me will make other people feel weird…

I feel I’m facing a lot of resistance in my life right now, in quite a few different areas. It’s tough, but I keep reminding myself that a few months, maybe weeks ago, I was disappointed that my life was so easy. I like to think that when things are getting more difficult it’s because it’s time to get better. And all of the points of conflict I’m coming up against are for sure areas I want to improve upon. So I shall try to embrace the tumult and, most importantly, try not to be a dick about it.

It’s funny even to watch the progression of my resistance over writing this blog. At this stage, my brain is trying out ‘you did it for a while, you know what it’s like now, no point carrying on, it’s not like anybody else cares about it and, clearly, you don’t. So just stop. What’s the point? You’ve got more important things to be doing’.

And I do have some quite important things to be doing, for sure. But not so many that my entire day is consumed by them. Once again, a terrible argument made by The Resistance.

Today I cried over a blocked toilet and a coat hanger. And not even just a little bit. A lot.

Just in case I’d started taking myself too seriously.