The first three months
Slummy: Keeps schtum, trying to convince her pals it’s the Dubai heat to blame for turning her brains to putty and why, on her last night out, she nodded off during pudding.
Yummy: Puts an ad in The National and throws an early baby shower, inviting all her rich friends, with invitatons from heidiandluca, gifts from Baby Bling and Sugar Daddy cupcakes.
Slummy: Finds resting her cheeks on the cool ceramic toilet bowl strangely comforting but wonders, as she retches up yet another glob of green, when it was she last drank anti-freeze.
Yummy: Disguises bleary eyes with designer sunglasses and recommends pregnancy as a weight-loss technique.
Slummy: Takes this ‘eating for two’ malarkey seriously and stuffs herself with crisps, chocolate, biccies and cake. Craves food and lots of it – none of that healthy green stuff mind you; anything that contains loads of carbs and fat and comes in portions that make even her rear look small.
Yummy: Quakes at the thought of putting on an extra pound and hires a nutritionist. No food cravings, but discovers she can’t live without a diamond ‘maternity’ ring or crystal-studded ‘yummy mummy’ T-shirt.
Slummy: Occasionally has a soak in the bath with a squirt of Radox – but has ditched even that since the time she got wedged in the tub. And she’s rather regretting the hormonal surge that convinced her a Limahl raccoon-style hairdo would be both stylish and practical.
Yummy: Keeps her locks luscious with a weekly blowdry at Frank Provost and regularly gets her pregnancy pulse points pushed and pummeled at Tilia & Finn. Thinks waxing is a great birth induction technique.
Slummy: Waddles to the pool, leans on the side and kick her legs for five minutes, before hauling herself out and rewarding her efforts with a huge chocolate milkshake.
Yummy: Slips into her Juicy Couture tracksuit and heads off for two hours of pre-natal yoga followed by a session with her personal trainer.
Slummy: Thanks the heavens that leggings are back in fashion and ponders buying the cubicle as an accessory. On her feet? Crocs for during the day, Birkenstocks for a night out. A girl can’t let her standards slip…
Yummy: Sees pregnancy as a perfect excuse for a whole new wardrobe, personal stylist in tow. She’s not daft, though. Five-inch heels are not practical when your centre of gravity is bouncing around like a demented frog. Three-inch Kurt Geigers or towering wedges are a much safer bet.
Slummy: Crams offending bazookas into a maternity bra that saw its last outing in a pantomime and wonders why her bottom seems to have eaten her knickers.
Yummy: Forks out oodles of cash on sexy maternity lingerie – and manages to wear it without looking like a hippo in heat.
Maternity mood swings
Slummy: Shouts, swears, screams, weeps and whimpers – on a good day. Finds murderous rage a bit of a problem. Not for her personally, just everyone she comes into contact with.
Yummy: Sees no difference – she was moody, unstable and neurotic beforehand.
Buying stuff for baby
Slummy: Wanders around Babyshop and Ikea wondering how much stuff a small person can possibly need and, more importantly, whether she’ll have to remortgage the family home to afford it all.
Yummy: Goes the Angelina way and kits out the entire bambino boudoir in Theophile & Patachou classics.
Over to you! Are you expecting? Which end of the spectrum do you fall? Let us know at firstname.lastname@example.org.