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Yesterday I received a new prospectus from the University of my choice and their admissions criteria has changed. This means I am minus six months relevant work experience. The other University option requires two years work experience. I've got a few plans as to how I can obtain the work experience in time, but, as ever, its totally dependent on the lads schedule. Perhaps this career plan might take longer than I had envisioned.
The gym/weight promise Moobs and Norah dished is finally happening. I have now lost 9 pounds and have skipped a dress size- which is nice, and about bloody time considering how much slog I've put in. A bout of food poisoning did kick start the weight loss but now it seems to be gently slipping off.
I'm pleased that its coming off all over. In the past I would lose weight around my bust and midriff, leaving my muffin, arse and thighs to wibble independently.
Speaking of bust. I'm never breastfeeding again. I won't be volunteering as a wetnurse anytime soon, and should fate decide to offer up further children, John will be standing in as number one feeder. (because by the time I'm ready to have another baby men will be able to lactate) - two empty sacks reside where once my bouncy puppies bobbled happily. Will they ever defy gravity again? A little piece of my youth dies everytime I roll and scoop them back into the hammock that was once a lacy balconette.
Still, my hair is long so, if nothing else, I can cover them with my wavy tresses (before my hair, like the rest of me buckles under the pressure of age and starts to break off.)