I recently braved the Oracle Shopping Centre, Reading for a few new outfits for date night. I came home in floods of tears and curled up to Craig on the sofa (I should say squeezed in beside him with my thighs hanging over the arm rest)… “I am officially fat. Only two things in the whole of H&M fit over my bum…” - in fact, that was only half the story… I actually ripped a dress in the changing room trying to zip it up over my boobs! Needless to say, I strategically hung it inside out on the hanger and made a hasty exit. Is this actually criminal damage? I suppose it sort of is right?

Yes, I am officially too lumpy for the high street. Carrying Dexter for nine months and sitting on my can for a year has morphed me into a candidate for a gastric band. I’m not a pear shape, or an apple shape - I’ve invented an orange shape! You’d think my enormous boobs and backside would create a kind of hourglass silhouette, but you can actually trace my love handles in my 5pm shadow.

Nothing. Repeat. Nothing - in my wardrobe fits me anymore, or is ever likely to do so again. I’m now going to have to live in Spanx and lycra and do away with my beautiful Coast dresses. Add a pregnant belly to the mix and I’ll need a king sized bed all to myself!

Of course, I’m exaggerating just a teeny bit. My new curves aren’t wholly unattractive, they’ve just appeared in places I’d never anticipated. 36GG boobs and a disproportioned bum just don’t suit the clothes I cavorted around in before I had Dexie. This isn’t all bad, there’s money to be made if I sell my old clothes for cash - trust me, if I’m really disciplined, I could afford to take the family on holiday to Australia.

So suggestions please… How can I shift a moderate amount of fat with minimum effort? I’m not one for the gym, would rather gouge my eyes out than give up pasties, and don’t even own a pair of trainers… there’s no hope right?

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