They hunt in packs. They take up all the space in cafes. They flick their (beautifully styled) hair while simultaneously drinking a skinny latte and nibbling at a tiny piece of carrot cake as their beautifully attired (and always tiny) offspring snooze peacefully in the Stokke. Who are they? Ladies, I present to you the EVEN YUMMIER MUMMY!!
Greenwich Park is absolutely packed with them. However, I’ve seen the EYM spectacle to end them all. This morning while taking the girls for their daily constitutional, I spied a cluster of buggies by the bandstand. Closer inspection revealed that the buggies were arranged in a circle forming a guard of honour and in the middle were about twenty yummies doing yoga with an instructor bellowing about their saggy post-birth tummies. I nearly pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. I find doing yoga on my own with an instructional dvd embarrassing enough and can’t imagine going to a class in a gym let alone in the open air with lots of people looking. Yet there they were, doing the downward facing dog without a care in the world at who was gawping at them (me).
Best of all, every baby in the guard of honour appeared to be asleep or at least awake and quiet. I only have to stop the buggy for a second to blow my nose and R and G’s eyes open and they start making moaning and groaning noises. This is not exactly conducive to inner peace, harmony and a toned stomach!
Now, surely there must be more unkempt, careworn, hair scraped back, messy mummies like me out there? We can’t possibly be in a minority. We must halt the progress of the EYM because they are armed (with a Stella McCartney changing bag), dangerous (as they cut up other cars in an effort to get their 4x4 out of the car park first) and coming to a green open space (with a handy deli and designer clothes shop) near you.
Messy mummies of the world unite!