I've never stayed at an upmarket resort before. In fact, I've never stayed at any kind of resort before. Almost my entire travelling life has been accommodated in hostels, three star hotels and motels.
When I hear the word "resort", I think of resortwear, the kind you'd see featured in fashionista magazines like Vogue and Harper's Bazaar - you know, artsy photographs of pencil-thin teenagers in nautical stripes, and beachwear that costs more than my last interview suit.
And this reminds me that I don't even have anything to swim in except for my maternity togs. That's right - the swimming costume with lots of gathering in the front to accommodate a very large tummy, is what I've been wearing to the pool even though I haven't looked remotely pregnant for many months now. That's what I'll probably be stuck with on holiday.
I don't even have a nice top to wear if we decide to eat out at one of the fancier resort restaurants, because all my "nice" tops suddenly became undersized once I developed massive mammaries.
I'm going to have to go shopping.
We're leaving on Friday morning, and I still have lots of other things to do this week. So I've determined that I'll have to do all my clothes shopping on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, between about 9.30 and 12 (between Baby's naps). How much can I transform my holiday wardrobe in 2 X 2.5 hours? If I were you I wouldn't expect a purchase expedition to rival a What Not To Wear episode.