my flair

 Thought I'd give you a fashion shoot taken in my bathroom this morning. Showcasing my latest fashion accessory.

Then explain why it's the most awkward accessory in Britain ever. And why.

 Ah look. She's wearing a badge. What does it say?

Oh there's a baby on board. Like one of those vile car thingies people hang in their rear windscreens.

Hashtag awkward.

 The problem with this badge is fewfold.

The most obvious problem is that it's intended to start a conversation.

For those of you have ever taken a London tube, you'll understand that having a conversation - let alone being the person who actually starts one - is a very serious offence indeed.

I don't want to talk in tubes either. I like that no one makes eye contact, nevermind engages in idle chitchat. Getting the badge was a decision I made because I thought I'd very much like the exuse to take a seat as I get larger and more immobile.

The problem is that sometimes, when people look up from their papers, 1 in 10 do actually remember their manners (I have to say, most have been females, not men) and politely ask me if I'd like their seat.

I thought until I start looking like a pregnant bovine, I will decline offerings of seats unless I'm really tired and I haven't grabbed one to start with.

But there's always a nervous shuffle, followed by a hasty croak as I say, "Thanks so much, it's OK, I'm getting off in...12 stops, it's fine."

I have become too British for the badge. What I need to do is take this up a notch and actually take a fucking seat when it's offered to me.

Really, I should jump at the offer. It would mean less awkward, polite niceties in the bloody tube: a space that makes any conversation really awkward and weird.

The other problem with the badge is psychological. People look at my badge, then immediately their eyes revert to my stomach. I then wonder if they can actually see my burgeoning bump. What if they can't, will they think I'm a fraud?

Should I give a shit?

As a result, I now stand with my hips and stomach out, much like the guy at the corner pub after he's downed 18 lagers and looks as though he's about to give birth to a massive beer baby and/or a Neanderthal. And still deny the seat.

It totally doesn't make sense, I need help.

Thirdly, I'm going to be larger than most pregnant women pretty soon. Already, the Australian in our office, whose wife is as far gone as I am, said, "Oy mate, you are so beeg, moi woife isn't HUHFFE the soize of you mate."

Great. And my ass seems to be growing at the same rate my stomach is.

I also seem to be growing outwards as well as sideways. Those skinny little yummy mummies with neat, pointed little pot bellies that you can't see from behind? I don't think that's going to be my vibe at all.

I should therefore make my fellow passengers telepathically aware that I am carrying two babies, not one, so everyone passively aggressively understands why I am so large.

I am going to need a crane to get out of bed in the morning; and I suspect I won't need the badge to remind anyone to offer me their seat on the tube for too much longer.

Anyway, thought I'd show you my "flair."