"Fergie Eat Your Heart Out"

Many moons ago, long before she became an Oprah Winfrey regular, the former Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson, was involved in a toe-sucking scandal which decorated the broadsheets for eons.

At the time, the published photos revealed a somewhat ecstatic young woman getting a now infamous 'Toe Job'.

Whatever.  I think the whole thing was overblown - and I speak with some authority given that I receive these on a daily basis thanks to my chubby baby.

"I'm going in..."

They're no big deal really.  Of course I can't speak for the erotic quality of your garden variety 'Toe Job', since in my case they are being administered by a (albeit enthusiastic) baby as opposed to say, a wealthy Euro playboy - perhaps it's not comparable?

"...Got it!"

In the same way that nursing is not the least bit erotic (sorry boys but it's not - having a voracious infant suckle greedily and try and pull out the last non-existent dredges of milk from your oh-so-tender-and-overused nipple whilst clamping onto your tender breast with tiny but surprisingly strong little fingers in need of yet another nail clipping) so is having yet another 'toe job' whilst trying to exercise - terribly annoying.

"And...result!"

That's the problem you see.  In trying to regain some semblance of my old body, I've come to the realisation that I must:

a) exercise EVERY day
b) lay off the refrigerated KitKats (surprisingly effective meal replacements...unless one overindulges)
c) continue nursing for the foreseeable (it burns an extra 500 calories a day...so...um...yeah)

Anyway, the baby does not like me exercising.  Or maybe he does.  After all he delights in climbing on my poor tummy while I try to do already excruciating sit-ups using my deeply buried abs.  And try doing a weighted side leg lift with a grinning extra 12 kilo's plopped lazily on your ankle.  Not good.

But try I must.  And persist I do.  And I suppose that's why the chubby baby can't help sucking my toes.  When I have them painted the most delicious (limited edition OPI pink) candy colour - how can he not pop a toe in his mouth on the odd chance it tastes of cotton candy (it doesn't).

So I continue to persevere...lifting, pulsing, bending and stretching...trying to keep my toes out of harms way.  Sometimes I succeed sometimes I don't.

But as a result the chubby baby and I are getting that little bit too intimate with each other and I'm gong to have to draw the line somewhere.

Pretty soon this toe and nipple smorgasbord is putting up its shutters and closing for good.  Watch this space.