Many of you have been asking who is the Postie?
He's this guy who I happen to be rather fond of, he's kinda cute in a weird facial hair kind of way, he is an actual correspondence delivery technician and yes, he's what some would call my boyfriend. He's also my flatmate which means it's impossible for him not to see me look like a hag when I have morning sickness, but is very handy when I need a piece of toast made and want to stay lying down. He's been rather impressive throughout these difficult months when I've been a bit of a Kimpy-shaped blob. What does he get out of all this? Why, he gets to rub oil on my gloriously white puku. Lucky, lucky man.
I realise my last few posts have been about being pregnant, which is a thing that has happened to a lot of people before me, so what I have to say is nothing new. I promise not to whine on about morning sickness too much longer. Seriously. I'm still slightly disbelieving that this is happening to me, as I had become quite content with the idea of not having kids. So let me rave on a little bit longer. Thanks. Over and out.