Wear

I've noticed that one of the clothing trends for the summer is a top with a very high waist - just below the boobs - which makes it look as though you're pregnant. I'm wondering if this means I'm going to spend the summer surrounded by women who look as though they're in maternity wear.

I refused to do the whole maternity clothes thing with Jessica. Well, I say 'refused' but that only worked up to a point. Seven months down the line, I didn't have much choice. But I hated every minute of being in these clothes which I felt had somehow been 'imposed' on me. Actually, I seem to remember hating school uniform for exactly those reasons. I don't think I looked at myself in the mirror very much when my bump got really big. I didn't realise it at the time, but I suppose I just didn't want to see it. I remember there were times when Martin wanted to touch it, to rub his hands across it... and I never actually told him to stop doing it, but I suppose my looks and my silences made it clear that I didn't appreciate the attention. So he soon got the message and stopped doing it. And I remember that after I gave birth, I was just more determined than I'd ever been about anything to get back into my jeans. Nothing was going to stop me from yanking them right up to my waist. I think I did myself some damage the first time I tried them on, but I didn't care. Getting that button to go through the little eye in the fabric became a mission. It was the most important thing I'd ever done.

The other day, I went into a shop and tried on one of those new tops. I took off the blouse I was wearing and slipped on the one I'd taken into the changing room. It was covered in large, retro-60s black and yellow and olive green splashes. As expected, it hugged me just below the boobs and then billowed out, right down to around my hips. As expected, it made me look as though I was concealing a tummy.

And I just stood in this changing room looking at myself in the mirror. And I ran my hands down my reflection, feeling the touch of cold glass where once there'd been a bump. And tears started falling down my cheeks. I didn't even realise it at first. But before I knew what was going on, the reflection before me became blurry and indistinct until it almost washed away.

And when I'd got the tears out of myself, I took a deep breath, put my own blouse back on and walked straight out of the shop, without saying a word to anyone.