Never mind taking your time getting back into shape, Giles is demanding his other half gets her sexy back. And fast.
The word is Pippa Middleton has been helping her sister lose the baby weight, possibly going so far as to heave her into one of those ‘baby girdles’ used by actress Jessica Alba to get her figure back after having her daughters.
The sensitive modern man inside me is appalled at this news so soon after the birth. A part of me wants to say, ‘Give her time, Pippa. Looks aren’t everything, don’t be so superficial – she should be focusing on her child, nothing more. This is London, not LA.’
Get your slim on
But, in truth, give it a few weeks and I’m with Pippa all the way. My wife Esther gave birth for the second time three months ago, and I’m DESPERATE for her to lose the weight. If she’s not going to have another baby (and she’s made it clear that she is not, though I would happily go for two or three more… Even five or six), then I want my super-hot, wasp-waisted, killer-boobed sexpot wife back from the old days. And I want her now!
After the birth of our first child, Esther took a ‘nine months to put it on, nine months to take it off’ approach to shedding her baby weight. She has never exercised in her life, so there was none of that and, as she stopped breastfeeding and returned to her normal diet, she eventually regained her original figure. I was delighted. Then, wham! She was pregnant again (no real coincidence there), so the aesthetic benefits were brief.
Our pledge to look good
This time, I am not going to be so patient. I am not fat, why should she be? She’s stopped breastfeeding now, so there’s no ‘turning it all into milk’ argument to be made. I could never persuade her to work out, so a diet is the only thing for it. Alas, it will not be easy.
We promised to be reasonably slim and reasonably attractive, so long as we both should live
As soon as our son was out, I went Atkins to encourage her, with the result that I lost a stone in three weeks and she laughed at me over pizza. She is intent on taking her time. Which was never the deal. We promised (in vows not aired in church) to try to be reasonably slim and reasonably attractive, so long as we both should live.
So I’ve done a cunning thing: I have persuaded a rich mate to invite us onto his yacht in a month’s time. Sunbathing on deck will be the order of the day and the presence of my mate’s super-thin wife and her super-thin friends will mean only one thing. ‘OMG,’ Esther cried when I told her. ‘I have to get thin!’ I believe she’s booked in for the jaw-wiring tomorrow.