The story so far: Anastasia and her husband, Nick, have been married for 3 years and are expecting their first baby. Anastasia is a freelance writer and lives in London. Now read on…

It sounds like a bad country and western song, and it’s just as annoying. Every morning I face the struggle – what can I wear that will not make me look like a tank? What will fit over my growing belly and, crucially, NOT stick to my Jennifer Lopez pre-personal-trainer behind? I learned this lesson the hard way, by wearing one of Nick’s white shirts. Feeling quite cute, we spent a Saturday together going out to lunch and running errands. As we walked past a shop window, I caught a glimpse of my side view and realised that, although I looked great front-on, the shirt was sitting on top of my bum like a Victorian bustle. Not attractive. So my top-tip for fellow pregnant women: Always check your rear view before you leave the house. As you fill out in front, fabric shrinks in the back. You’ve been warned.

It gets worse before it gets better. I have a pair of jeans that are my ‘fat jeans’ and they always work in a pinch. Nick and I were invited over to our friend’s house for a Friday night curry and I thought I’d see if they still fitted. They did. I felt a wave of relief, thinking, OK, I can’t be that fat if my old jeans still fit. So I threw them, on and we were on our way.

The pain started in the car. I shifted in my seat but the waistband dug uncomfortably into my belly, no matter what I did. I put on a brave face and hoped they would ‘stretch out.’ Before I finished my first poppadom, I had to release the top button. The zipper went down halfway through my onion bhaji. Thank God, we were with close friends. When we got home, I ripped them off with great relief and ceremonially put them away in the guest room closet, so as not to tempt myself again. Depressing.

Facing the truth

It was time to break down and buy some maternity clothes. Dread. My sister-in-law, who is a fashion designer, recommended taking a look at The Gap’s on-line maternity store. I can deal with the Gap. At least it isn’t called something sickeningly cutesy like Bumpsadaisy. They only ship to the US, so I’ll have to have my new wardrobe sent to my parents in Nevada, since I’ll be visiting them in a couple of weeks. I logged onto the site and suddenly got really into it. Forty-five minutes later I had bought myself a wardrobe! It’s a little too easy to ‘shop’ online, without signing your credit card voucher and realising how much you’ve spent. And the prices are in dollars, which always seem ‘cheap.’ Obviously, trying on the clothes will be the true test. However, the pregnant models looked adorable and sleek and I was very inspired.

I told a friend about my on-line shopping spree and, as a former editor of a mother and baby magazine, she told me something that horrified me. ‘We never, ever use pregnant women in our pregnancy features. They look bloated and horrible and just plain overweight. We always use regular models with a prosthetic tummy.’ I had a sinking feeling I wouldn’t look quite as ‘neat’ in my Gap maternity clothes as those damn imposter models did. Is nothing sacred?

I have a sinking feeling this child is going to be born a light shade of magenta. I can’t eat enough beetroot. Or pickled cucumbers (cliché, I know). I’ve lost my once-raging sweet tooth, which is odd, but it has been replaced by a desire for salty things that could move me to set out, in a torrential downpour, for a bag of crisps.

Nick is amused by my eating habits and is supportive of my mania. If he laughs, when he catches me putting peanut butter on tortilla chips, he does so privately. In the rare moments when I am satisfied with a full stomach, I warn Nick to help me choose healthy foods. Luckily for him, he knows that he must ignore my rants completely, because, if he ever gave me a ‘gentle reminder’ to choose the grilled fish over the fried mozzarella, I would probably bite him like a rabid dog. I feel like a walking science project.

Catch up on Josa Young's pregnancy diary for weeks 14-16.