I need to de-ming. Look at this 'stunna' that Mr Meep married 6 years ago.
And look at the horror I have become.
Back in the day, I ate the healthiest ever diet, with home-made supersmoothies, tons of veg and gallons of water. I walked 3 miles and swam half an hour every day, walked the dog for miles, plus managed to fit in about three aerobics classes a week too. Blimey. I was toned, I was fit, I was glowing with health and vitality. I was like a poster girl for Howies (only not very pretty and about 10 years too old).
Today, I eat too much dark chocolate and too much cake. I amble about in parks a lot, but at The Snail's pace. I walk the dog in the half hour of precious time I can squeeze into Mr Meep's lunch hour. Swimming is a distant memory. I am flabby, I am unfit, I am grey with tiredness and lethargy. Looks wise, I am the very definition of the anti-mumpet.
And so, a plan of action is in order. And, of course, a nice list.
Same old, same old - trying to grow out highlights for eco/frugal reasons (and I hate going to the hairdressers so much), but at that horrid stage of half bleurgh, half blonde stage that normally gets me running to the salon.
Dr Meep prescribes: A positive attitude. Must get through this with vision of glossy red bob that I could have by my birthday in August. Meanwhile, be glad it's hat season.
I last slept for a whole night in May 2009 (eek!) and I look tired and old. My skin is kind of grey, very dry and I have enormous eye bags and even the start of some crow's feet. Blee.
Dr Meep prescribes: Bed by 11pm without fail. Weekly 'beauty night' in the bath. Invest in some kind of 'heavy-duty but not full of evil chemicals' eye cream (is there such a thing?).
I have eaten way too much rubbish since I had Moll, what with breastfeeding being the best calorie burner ever. But now she's starting to eat some solids and she's cutting back on the milk, I need to cut back on the cakes. Our diet is generally great, but we do like our baked goods and the chocolate tin sees a lot of action when the little croutons are in bed.
Dr Meep prescribes: 90% vegan diet, lots more fruit, lots less cakes (sob).
OK, I'll admit I'm not overweight. But I am incredibly wobbly. When Gwen and I made jelly butterflies yesterday and sang 'jelly on a plate', I could feel every part of me wobbling along with that raspberry-flavoured pud. My stomach didn't really take a beating after baby number one, but after two, it resembles a lump of uncooked bread dough. Euw. Clearly, I am time-challenged these days, but I need to get moving, moving, moving.
Dr Meep prescribes: Daily power walks, weekly swimming, sit-ups at home and a return to my love-hate relationship with running once the light nights return.
Usual, no clue about fashion plus no cash plus loathe shopping plus want to be an eco warrior. Same old looking a right old mess, but with added baby drool all over me.
Dr Meep prescribes: Hmm, not sure. Can someone nominate me to go on a TV makeover show please?
Right, that's sorted then. Off to get some sleep, swim 60 lengths, scrub my face with ground mung beans and eat an alfalfa on spelt sandwich.