About Me

Here’s everything you need to know:
I’m 27.
I’m a (somewhat reluctant) military wife. I don’t bake cakes. I regularly miss the wine guzzling get togethers and coffee meet ups that my kindly patch neighbours continue to persevere in inviting me to. I eat egg baps at black tie functions and regularly embarrass my long-suffering and rather important OH.
We live on the South Coast (soon to be moving back to the South West, where we have just bought our first house).
I have a pretty decent job in business development in an industry I love, professional hair and beauty. Said job takes up most of my waking (and sometimes non-waking) hours, requires ridiculous amounts of travel and frequently leaves me physically and emotionally exhausted. I adore my team and my clients, but I’m already starting to struggle juggling the demands of my job with increasing tiredness and general grumpiness.
I’ve never had maternal tendencies towards anyone or anything other than my cat. I love her more than is acceptable in anyone’s eyes, and in standard cat fashion, she is indifferent to me, with the exception of my slightly larger tummy which has suddenly become something of a magnet for her. Why do cats do that? Does she know?

Oh, and I’m pregnant, and freaking out about it…

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