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Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Neti no-no

I am pregnant, therefore I am miserable.

Last pregnancy I wanted to punch each and every person who told me to treasure each special moment. Which bits should I be treasuring exactly? The random vomiting, often striking without warning, mid-sentence, leaving the forehead damp with sweat, dark circles under the eyes, gasping for air and breath that smells of a dog's nadgers? Or maybe the spotty tits, the oddly hairy stomach or the fact that my temper is so short I'm genuinely a bit furious that the space bar on my keyboard is very slightly sticky? Or the fact that when I get out of bed each morning, it feels like I've been horse riding, which is ironic as when you're pregnant you're not allowed to ride a fucking horse.

I am not a new-age kind of person. I am very much of the attitude, "If there's a drug that will sort that out, I'll fucking have it." Unfortunately when you are pregnant, they don't let you have all the drugs. They will only let you have a Starbucks under strict supervision, and if you order a shandy in the pub, three well-intentioned citizens will call Social Services, who will arrive in 12 minutes and patronise you appropriately.

It is shit.

I have a cold. It is not a bad cold, as colds go, but it is a cold nonetheless. My usual cold routine goes like this:

- Vitamin C
- As much paracetamol as the packet allows (or Lemsip if I'm feeling indulgent)
- Sudafed nasal spray
- Cold and flu tablets (obviously not with the paracetamol or Lemsip - I'm not a fucking idiot)
- A tissue shoved up each nostril, and plenty of moaning.

Unfortunately, once pregnant your options are limited pretty much to:

- Vitamin C
- Tissues and moaning

This does not cut the fucking mustard.

Technically you can have paracetamol, but this involves an unprecedented amount of eye-rolling from Mrs Nunn who believes that paracetamol is the work of the devil, and even one tablet will result in irreversible kidney damage. Taking two tablets in pregnancy is basically child abuse. Also, it doesn't unblock your nose anyway.

In a spectacular whinge-fest on Facebook, I was recommended by several friends the use of a neti pot. Reader, I was desperate. I ordered one. It arrived.

I excitedly made myself a saline solution. I watched this video where an attractive woman happily neti-potted herself back to full health, smiling all the time. I would be like her! My nose would unblock! My makeup would be flawless! I might enjoy yoga!

It looked brilliant. It would sort out my sinuses, and I could stop moaning. Or at the very least, find something new to moan about.

I waited for my saline solution to come to the appropriate temperature.

Bent over the kitchen sink, I enthusiastically started to neti. In went the spout. Nothing happened. My nose was too blocked for water to go anywhere. I un-nettied myself, blew my nose, and tried again.

This time I was successful. I waterboarded myself. The stinging pain of the salt, which simultaneously went down the back of my throat, whilst further blocking my nose (rendering breathing impossible, for anyone who's following the biology), made me feel dreadful. Not being a quitter, I blew my nose again, and tried the other side. So I can be absolutely certain when I say I know what it's like to be waterboarded through both nostrils. (I assume this is what waterboarding is. It's either that, or something you have to pay extra for at Centre Parcs.)

Things reached an impressive crescendo as, still struggling with morning sickness (which is always worst - obviously - in the afternoon) I vomited copiously.

Pregnancy is total bollocks.

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