ARGGGGHHH GRRRRRRRRRR

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Woe betide anyone who crosses my path at the moment - I'm just a ball of pulsating rage. What is this? PMT in pregnancy, does it even exist?? A friend told me this week (yes, I got out and met someone for dinner, it was fabulous. She looked amazing - all fashiony London and I looked like a middle aged heffer in a sweaty black T with maternity jeans that kept falling down. Classy. But we had great sushi and for a moment it felt like I was back in my hay day, except while she necked champers I necked... water. Oh how times change...) that she got a huge burst of testosterone during pregnancy - due to the fact she was having a boy - or something like that.

I must be gestating an Alpha fecking male because I feel on the verge of my temper exploding 24/7. It is 9:11am and already I feel annoyed about 4 different things: the cleaner using masses of kitchen towel instead of cloths to clean everything - works out pretty expensive; a very late email reply from a good friend who seems completely self absorbed in a way they never were before - maybe I am just being uncharitable; my Husband, well for breathing and doing not much else but bemoan the fact all I do is ask for money (mate it aint no picnic being the asker I assure you - I would rather die than be a 'kept wife' - I am used to having my own cash and to not have it is humiliating); neighbour - because I seem to have collected the kids more times this week than it should be... (I am petty, yes, I never said I wasn't. You want to make something of it eh? EH??); and the one that threatens to tip me over the edge: a shop I bought maternity trousers in yesterday charged me £14:99 when in fact they were in the sale for £7 and now I have to drag my ass back there for the refund, for THEIR mistake. ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Nothing major as you can see. Nothing worthy of such red mist. Mildly irritating at best. For a NORMAL person. Yet, man, I could go to war for this stuff. Live or die by it. I mean what is that about? I swung by my old agent yesterday - great to see him. I was kinda hoping he was going to magic work out of the sky for me, so as I could get out of this scraping the bottom of my bag to buy a pint of milk life that seems to have enveloped me. But there is nothing I am needed for at present. The teaching work appears to have dried up and oh my god I need it to get wet again... How did I not realise that not working and our household losing a salary would have such a profound effect?? I must have been mad.

Which brings me back to being mad - angry mad that is. If you see a looks-7-months-but-is-infact-4 months pregnant blonde woman in fetching new maternity leggings and a stripy top (that perhaps isn't the best design considering her current shape) storming down a street in a leafy village outside London, cross the road for the love of god. Please tell me I am not alone, that there are some days you could just cheerfully go medieval and feel utterly absolved of guilt? No, well you are much better person than me then.

I am deep breathing.... And so begins my count to ten: 1....2....3....4....5.... Think it is time for some acupuncture...