Once it became clear to me that no amount of doughnut denial or reluctant jogging was ever going to rectify the trauma delivered to my stomach muscles by bearing two twin pregnancies in quick succession, I decided to look upon the issue more creatively.
Over a gingerbread latte and a couple of muffins.
The problem with post-baby sex is that things simply don't stay put. A decade ago you'd have purred seductively on all fours for him – now gravity and motherhood have given you a kangaroo pouch and udders, and you don't so much purr as whimper.
I cast an analytical eye over my bedtime routine. Not the bedtime routine where you brush your teeth and button up your winceyette nightie, but the sort where he says "shall we go up?" when what he really means is "will you go down?" and you suck in your tummy and wonder if it would be possible to have sex with your high-waisted jeans on. It isn't.
In marketing the motherhood brand, it's time for a fresh approach to positioning.
Following extensive research with mothers from all over the world (Hackney, Chester and a small village in North Devon) I bring you the Essential Guide to Post-Baby Sex, guaranteed to hide the wobbly bits and make you look good in bed.
An underrated classic, this position comes into its own once you've had children, allowing gravity to pull your belly-button into something resembling its original position. Risky if you've got the sort of spaniel-ear bosoms which tend to slip down towards your armpits, but handy for hiding the fact that your post-baby bottom looks like a giant suet ball.
Blind man's buff
Once upon a time an Ann Summers' satin blindfold was an essential part of your seduction kit: now you'll have to resort to hosiery to turn his world dark. Fortunately those thick (if rather dusty) maternity tights are just the ticket; far more effective than a wisp of 10 denier stocking. Blindfold your man and you can shake your orange-peel booty without a care in the world. Or pop your earphones in to listen to the Women's Hour podcast undetected.
On your side with your back to him. My favourite, not least because I can catch 40 winks while I'm waiting for the grand finale. Also handy for watching EastEnders and easier to explain away when caught in flagrante delicto by enquiring toddlers, than the more adventurous options. "We're just having a cuddle" is a poor excuse when you're riding cowboy style, brandishing a riding crop and a can of squirty cream.
Not hugely erotic, I grant you, and tricky for him to get any real purchase, but lying face-down on the bed is by far the best way to hide any unpredictably mobile body parts. Possibly worth investing in a professional massage bed with face hole if you're to do this one regularly.
Sold to him as "I must have you this very minute and can't possibly wait to take my clothes off", your real reason for staying dressed is that you couldn't possibly risk removing the scaffolding provided by your industrial strength bra and pants combo. This pseudo-frantic sex would be made even easier by the addition of helpful apertures in the crotch area, but at the time of writing I found John Lewis sadly lacking.
Behind the Times
No Times involved. Or indeed any broadsheets (although large props such as newspapers can provide useful cover, if you don't mind getting ink in your nether regions). Bent over from behind but ideally half lying on a flat surface to counteract natural forces. The kitchen table is ideal, although do wait until your guests have gone home (unless you live in Surrey, where I believe that sort of thing is de rigueur).
So there you have it. The essential guide to post-baby sex, guaranteed to resist the effects of gravity and provide maximum opportunity for concealing the cellulite.