Day: I’ve no idea anymore…

newmumproblemsI’ve not written for a while, so figured while the mini one is napping, I’d grab my opportunity!

A few things have changed since popping out the mini one…

  • My grey hair. It’s spreading like the plague.. The ‘Silver Fox’ look just isn’t the same on women. We just look, well, old. 
  • I’m wearing less and less makeup on a daily basis. Being a makeup artist it’s really quite surprising how little I’d wear at the best of times. And now…. well, the “My you have long lashes” comments, have now been silenced. In fact, they’re really rather quite short and straight. Tricks of the trade really have proven their success for you suckers!
  • The bald patches have reduced in size. No longer am I sporting a Terry Nutkins! Hurrah!
  • Packing for a holiday (3 weeks and counting) requires a week in itself to pack. I hate packing.
  • My joints! I can’t sit for more than 5 minutes without getting up and walking like a 97 year old woman, who lost her zimmer. Styling it out isn’t so easy, I just look like I’ve sh*t myself as I stand up before starting my awkward, slow, stiff walk to my next destination.

…but aside from that, and aside from loving the Mini one with my everything (except the reasons above, because let’s face it, he is technically to blame and you’re never too young to learn to accept responsibility)… loving life.*Insert thumbs up*

Day: I might just shave it

Hair. What’s the point in it exactly? Because if I’m honest, the only thing it’s good for nowadays is:

  1. Being pulled on
  2. Being sicked on
  3. …and tickling my face. But not the enjoyable kind of tickling, no. More the “Get the F*CK out my face” kind.

It’s bad enough that I feel as though I end up with a wig load in my hands after washing it, let alone the constant picking and disposing of individual strands on literally ANYTHING I TOUCH!  Continue reading

Day: I need a fashion stylist. Fact.


[First up, this model makes it look how it should… COOL! I. Am. Not. Cool.]

It happened. That awful moment when you go out for mid-week drinks with friends, one of the few nights away from the little one, to let my hair down and have a few drinky-poos, crack a few jokes and take a few group selfies – this, by the way, was where I realised I am going bald. Apparently a common thing after pregnancy. Now, if I’d have known that! But a photo was taken, that I then threatened could NEVER be used, else my baldness would be exposed to the world.   Continue reading