Come on Vic, let it all hang out
Like every other woman in the country I have been on a high since God sent Victoria Beckham the little girl she's always wanted.
My heart soared when I saw pictures of the diamond encrusted dummy Vic's A-list pals had bestowed upon the new princess of America. And I couldn't stop singing when I saw that nursery, complete with four poster carrycot and life-size furry giraffe (what tiny baby doesn't dream of such joys?).
However I am slightly concerned that, a month after the birth, there is still no sign of the mother. David Beckham and his boys have been photographed all over the place and look to be in good spirits, so she can't be ill. Bearing in mind how often the papers run pics of her catwalking across airport tarmacs, the complete absence of a sighting suggests that Mummy Becks is in hiding and is yet to cross the door.
I'd love to think that this is because Victoria is slopping around in a dressing gown and slippers without any make-up on like most of us do in the first few weeks after giving birth.
But I have a horrible feeling she's working on an intensive fitness and diet programme as we speak, and won't be seen in public until she looks like a walking carrot stick again. Which would be a shame, both for her sanity and health, and for all the watching, remotely normal mums. Wouldn't it be great, just this once, to see her looking happily knackered?