Chapter 44: Drooling Investment.

Andrew was right. Harvey Nichols is exactly my bag. Though, I started out at Harrods, but it was too large and packed with touristy riffraff. A very terrible situation.

Harvey Nics, as I overheard one British girl call it right outside the Sloane Street entrance, is more upscale and deluxe-like, reminding me of Henri Bendel in New York. It feels like heaven, going from rack to rack, gathering various gems like Dolce & Gabbana, Jean Paul Gaultier, and Marc Jacobs. I threw in some new names into the mix because, why not? They look perfectly splendid, wintery garments from designers I have never heard of.

I took my new treasures to the dressing room to try them out.

Shockingly, I couldn't squeeze into a size six. I am seventeen weeks pregnant, and my initial few pounds of pregnancy weight propelled me from my usual size four to size six. My afternoon is about to be ruined as tears gathered up in my eyes when I tried to squeeze into the size four version of an Alexander McQueen's black