January 1st
Dropped by for my daily breastfeed. Ordered a latte. Way too hot.
Note to self: do wrist tests in future.
January 15th
I need a strong cup of coffee. Either that, or a stronger me.
January 27th
Popped in for a latte with hubby this morning. We joked about the crèche-like environment. Toddlers everywhere. Next to us sat a baby sucking away at her mum’s breast. My husband asked me if that is what they mean by having a Babyccino.
March 4th
My birthday. I downed a luscious mocha to congradulatte myself. Great to have such a con-pannion coffee on my special day…
haha heehee
April 6th
Suddenly realised I’m addicted to coffee. It’s not just Starbuck’s cosy colour scheme, the comfortable seating arrangement, the calming chill out music that draws me in day after day. It’s the coffee. Coffee is a DRUG!
I asked for a huge grande latte in my newly bought Starbucks flask and the Barista filled it right to the brim. An overload. Half and hour later and pungent aroma pored through my skin. My heart also pumped like a rabbit and I peed like a river over the next couple of hours.
By the end of the day, I could still feel the effects, and what was really creepy (besides the heart thing) was how my skin acquired an oily sheen like a seal.
I deduced that my usual normal shot in my normal standard cup gives me just enough buzz. Only by overdosing today did I realise this stuff is dangerous. Fortunately for my adrenals, it took me till my adult years to develop a taste for coffee.
Despite my current daily breastfeeds, you could call me a late developer.
May 7th
It’s a shame my heart only allows one coffee per day…my brain could do with three.
May 8th
Dear Starbucks, without you, I wouldn’t know what hunger is.
September 28th
A couple relaxing in Starbucks. Me sitting opposite.
The woman’s heavily pregnant. He looks the same. Mirroring her fullness. His hands also cradling his belly. Holding on. Expecting. They sit sandwiched together, arm to arm, bearing secret smiles. A picture of contented waiting.
I think: Just you wait, alright. You’re in for some ride. Which is exactly why I’m in Starbucks now, having gotten off the ride for a minute to unwind and relax and breathe.
So, here we are: The before and after.
The before: Holding and waiting. Full of baby.
The after: Relaxing and breathing. Empty of baby.
October 16th
I’m sitting in Café Nero in Guildford after my massage. My soya decaf mocha sucks. Too much chocolate. Too much effort to complain for a new one. Or maybe too relaxed. That massage felt great – just what I needed. There are few things in life that are just my cup of tea. That’s one of them. Coffee’s another – except this one.
…this is interesting….two sisters and their mother have just sat down beside me and the mother’s louder than the kids. Chatterbox mother – the type who’s had ten lattes already. I’ll try blocking her noise and write about what’s on my mind today, which is the physical aftermath of giving birth to my eight pounder son last April.
Give me a second…the street party family next door has turned up the volume. When someone’s that loud, I always wonder if I am meant to eavesdrop to receive some kind of sign or meaning of life message. Let’s listen for a bit…the mother’s just announced she’s moved into a refurbished home which was the same house she had rented years ago as a student. Hmmm. Thought provoking comment, but I’m getting no light bulbs.
So, back to my body. What’s happened is this: my bum has folded over a bit but I’ve gained Popeye arms and ‘hard as nails’ nails which will come in handy if I run out of can openers. The Popeye arms via the sheer daily effort of carrying my little chunky monkey. The hard nails I haven’t a clue as to why (hormones I guess) but I’m not complaining as they’re usually paper thin.
…Why in the whole fucking coffee shop is this chatterbox mother sitting next to me? There’s nothing more irritating than someone enjoying my space more than I do. There…I moved seats.
Christ.
Right, so another physical alteration: my need to pee frequency. This has increased dramatically. I find myself standing up and realising that I needed to pee two hours ago. Quite tricky when you enjoy streams of coffee.
Another thing. Whether this is also related to the change in hormones or just a maturing over time, I suddenly enjoy dry white wine. The switch happened recently at a dinner social when I tried a chardonnay on a whim. After preferring sweet wine for thirty-odd years, this has been a major life changer.
So, there we have it. I think my bum folding over is an age thing really. Because in actual fact, immediately after birthing my son, my figure hadn’t looked that toned in ages. It was as if my body had run a marathon during birth, (which it did) and burned up most of my cellulite whilst giving me a bum lift in the process. Hurray. The lift didn’t last long though. I’ve gone a bit floppy again.
Apart from those biceps.
