I'm having a bad time of it this week! Izzy chewed up my shoes, I've been diagnosed with bronchitis (again) and I'm getting really down over having nothing that fits. The size 14 trousers I bought are too big! They fall down and look too baggy all over, which I guess means I'm not fat all over, it is just my stomach.
But then most folk don't seem to show until about 15-17 weeks, and I'm only 12, so shouldn't be showing which makes me think it is fat.
Anyway, I spent an hour this morning sobbing that I was fat and had nothing to wear and as a result I was late to work and teary all morning.
Then I had an email from Nicola asking how I was, which was very nice of her, but made me feel more dreadful as she's so chirpy about it all saying how well it's all going, and I'm such a moaner and grumbler and am still waiting for something to click in still!
Oh, and to top it all off, Steve has now said he won't make the second scan as he's away working. And this is the appointment we scheduled around him. I'm cross, but guess there's no point. I just wish he felt worse about it! At least then I'd feel he was more bothered about missing it!
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