I've put my foot down with my personal trainer

So I'm meant to be doing some diet and fitness programme with my personal trainer, J. But I'm not into it. I started out with good intentions and I'm meant to be following some diet as well. To be honest it's boooooring.

J has been coming round every morning at 9.30 for training. The other morning I couldn't be arsed so I texted him to say I was ill. Turns out he didn't get the text and turned up anyway. So there I was in bed having a fag and an espresso when J walked in! The dippy nanny had answered the door to him.

I'm not meant to be having fags or caffeine at the moment, J was not happy. I told him that I'd had enough of the stupid fitness programme and that I didn't want a wheatgrass smoothie instead of breakfast any more. And that I can't give up fags because I like them too much.

So J's gone off to design a new programme for me. Yaaawn. Apparently it's the same one he did for Sienna Miller.

Rock Star came home with a pile of Baby Dior for Tulip. He's such a good daddy. I've had the nanny put her in three outfits already today!