I’ve been taking part in all the trends this month: Dry January. No spend January. Veganuary. My new personal favourite, Januhairy. But purveyor of puritanical living I am not – I am just pregnant.
Actually, not ‘just pregnant’, rather I’m on the emotional rollercoaster of the last trimester, hostage to the mercurial hormones of 33 weeks of pregnancy. Case in point: last week I broke down when the postman knocked at the door and asked me to take in a parcel for my neighbour from Staples. I cried that it was for my neighbour, not me. I wasn’t even expecting a parcel, nor do I have a genuine need for, or interest in, stationery of the office kind.
Yet, January is the month when our tribe come into our own – why not bask in the glow of our abstentious halo after watching cocktails, fizz and mulled wine be guzzled with joyous abandon throughout December. We deserve it – there is only so much carbonated grape juice that can be drunk out of a champagne flute (a heinous crime in itself), and don’t get me started on Becks Blue. Even the new surge of alcohol-free gins on the market cannot give you that ‘ahhhhh’ feeling, no matter how much Fever Tree tonic and fancy pants garnishes are added. We’ve suffered the office Christmas party sober and been the designated driver; Dry January, we welcome you and your people with open arms!
So how am I embracing No Spend January? Well, this is our third child so we’ve got all the gear, although we’ve still got no idea, but what we do have is empty pockets. Not so much ‘No Spend January’ as ‘Have Nothing To Spend January’. Enough said.
Veganuary? It’s a tough one. Having totally gone off meat in pregnancy I would have eagerly joined an estimated 300,000 people giving it a go, were it not for my complete and unadulterated love for milk. Not only has it been my most trusted companion in the face of horrendous heartburn, but it is probably the thing I daydream most about in pregnancy. If I am not drinking it, I’m thinking it. At this point, a cow in the garden is a viable option.
Januhairy? This is new for 2019 and, really, this is the pregnant woman’s time to shine. Now I know there may be some out there who keep up their waxing, shaving, manicure and pedicure schedule throughout the nine months, but I will readily admit I have reached the point where, if I cannot see or reach a body part over my belly in the bath or shower, it is left to its own devices. Having endured a summer pregnancy where body hair had to be kept at a socially acceptable level, the winter cover-up is something to be fully enjoyed. A few days before my due date I will spruce up and pretend that I have been one of those people the whole nine months, but until then it’s Januhairy (and Febuhairy!) all the way.
If you have been involved in one of these January initiatives, then I applaud you – they can be genuinely good for the mind, body and soul. But I’ll see your one month, and raise you eight.