pullupyourpantsDo you know how to tell if you are a real mum? It’s when you literally cannot bear to walk behind some skinny-jeaned yoof whose waistband has slipped halfway down his arse in the name of fashion. I have even found myself crossing the street to stop myself reaching out and wrenching them up.

Contrast this with just a few years ago when I would probably have assessed his bum and, most likely, been sporting a similar slack-butt look. As well as thinking him ‘well buff’ I would have probably preferred it to sit lower.

And now? I’m a child’s worst nightmare and (one imagines) Simon Cowell’s sartorial dream.  How did it get to this? I’m forever hitching up, tucking in, tugging vests into pants and pulling tights up under the arms. I cannot stand my daughter’s t-shirts hanging out and worry that the smallest inch of bare midriff will lead to pneumonia.

And it’s not just her. I am finding myself looking at comfy high-waister slacks instead of funky low-slung jeans. I’m thinking of thermal tummy-hugger vests and big ‘bodyshaping’ pants. I recall my own mum’s billowing elastic-waisted skirts and I realise the game’s up. The mothering gene (jean?) is unavoidable. And, in more ways than one, your waistline’s the first to go.

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