Page 21 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
We all look at Lucy curiously.
‘It’s not natural. I feel very off-centre,’ I add.
I scan down as Meg reaches over to hold my hand. Having both recently had babies, we’re both suffering from our bodies being in some sort of postpartum limbo but she doesn’t seem to care. Maybe she’s just had the time and experience of her other pregnancies to channel any despondency she has about the situation.
‘Flash me, your bra must be huge,’ says Meg.
I lift up my top, tentatively.
Lucy laughs. ‘That could fit on my head.’
Meg, however, notices my arm clutching my stomach and rolls her eyes at my hesitancy. ‘Oh, give over.’ She lifts her shirt up to reveal rolls of flesh, stretch marks scattered across them like silver waves.
‘Do the stretch marks ever fade?’ I ask. ‘Mine are dark red, I look like a tiger.’
‘Own them. They’re your new warrior stripes. We’ve just produced life. Give yourself a break.’
We sit here with our guts out in our sister’s kitchen. Emma and Lucy don’t even baulk, but also don’t join in for which I’m glad as I know they both indulge in weekly exercise.
‘It’s just how it is for the while. It gets better,’ Meg says.
‘So this is the status quo, knackered and flabby?’ I say.
‘Well, yeah. Just get some high-waisted jeans that suck it all in. And big floaty dresses are good. The wrap dress is our friend. You can hide all of that.’
I look down. I’m wearing a giant T-shirt with extremely elasticated leggings. It’s all about the comfort, less the look.
‘I’m just worried I’ll look crap at the weekend. I don’t want to let Will down.’
‘You won’t. You’re fun. People like you. You’re the nice sister.’
‘What does that make you?’ I ask Meg.
‘I was thinking about this the other day when I was watchingThe Walking Dead. I’m the ringleader spokeswoman, then you have Ems and Gracie who are the “sensible” ones telling us our plans are stupid.Don’t go there, that’s insane, safety first.’ Emma doesn’t disagree with this appraisal. ‘Then Lucy is the fun one keeping spirits up with sarcasm and joy and you’re the heart, the one we all come to for hugs and empathy.’
‘That’s nice. That person always gets eaten though.’
‘And turns into a zombie.’
Meg pulls a face, rolling her eyes back, tongue hanging out. Joe laughs only because he’s so familiar with it but he gives me a look.How come everyone’s allowed near the boobies but me? Surely they’re mine?I smile back at him.
‘Give him over, Ems, he’s due a feed,’ I say.
I adjust myself and prop some cushions up behind me. I have yet to master the slick magician style manner that most have when feeding their kids without being noticed so I just plonk my tit out in the middle of the kitchen. Lucy’s eyes read like an asteroid has just hit the room. Emma hands Joe over and he suckles for his life, like this might be his last meal. This part, at least, always feels useful, though it does have a milking cow element to it. The older sisters watch intently and I wonder whether they’re assessing the technique.
‘I bet Will’s loving the bigger bangers though, eh?’ says Lucy, casually.
I smile awkwardly. ‘He’s a bit scared of them. They’re unpredictable. And you never told me the milk comes out like that, through lots of different holes,’ I say, pointing at the older sisters.
Lucy looks horrified, staring down at her own boobs.
‘Like a sprinkler,’ I tell her as she tries to work that out. ‘And the pressure when they’re full is immense. No one told me about that either.’
‘It’s fun though, eh?’ says Meg.
‘Like how?’ I ask.
‘Like on a good day’ – she gestures to a glass by the sink – ‘I could hit that.’
