Kate Middleton

WHEN Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge, gave birth to Prince George in July, I wrote a column on this website saying never in a million years would I swap places with her.

I pontificated on the pressure she'd face to be the perfect mother, shed her baby weight and step back into the spotlight in 25 seconds.

So when I was due to give birth last month, I decided to challenge myself to do it Kate Middleton-style.

Could I look glowing and glamorous on the steps of the maternity hospital? Would I fit back into my skinny jeans in record time? Could I be the very model of a royal mum?

Going home outfit

Kate went into labour on July 22 and left London's St Mary's Hospital the following day. Seems fast?

In the UK most new mums - Zara Phillips included - are discharged a leisurely six hours after delivery. You could spend longer in a restaurant over lunch.

Although many Aussie mums in the public system also go home the same day, if you end up having a C-section, like me, you'll get up to five nights in hospital.

So when Kate was off in her blue Jenny Packham frock, heels and blow dry, I was still a sweaty mess in bed, hair matted to my head, tubes pumping painkillers into my back.

I had, however, planned to wear a dress as my going home outfit, in direct homage to Kate, although mine was a designer rip-off that cost $39 from ASOS.com.

Alas, I'd forgotten one important factor - you can't breastfeed in a frock without taking the whole thing off, which might have been a little too liberal for my obstetrician.

So I changed back into my black pants and grubby T-shirt and made an ignominious exit.

ROYAL VERDICT Complete fail

First family trip out

The happy trio of Kate, William and George headed to the Middleton home in Berkshire and promptly disappeared.

Like any first-time parents, managing to get the baby out in a pram with you fully dressed at the same time seems an insurmountable hurdle for weeks.

The first time we saw Kate was four weeks later when her dad Michael released some happy snaps of the family in their garden.

Barring the immaculate hair (how does she have so many blow-dries? Does she have a magic Brownie hair stylist that she pops in her pocket? A kind of leprechaun for lovely locks?), this I could do. In fact, we were marching round the park just one week post birth.

ROYAL VERDICT Double points for defeating the Duchess

Back in skinny jeans

Oh how we marvelled when photos emerged of Kate sporting skinny black jeans, a silky top and wedges, just five weeks later.

Endless column inches were devoted to her triumphant weight loss with experts sagely agreeing it was because she didn't gorge on chips and Mars bars.

Having declared that all mums who lose their baby weight in record time should be banished to a desert island so the rest of us can wallow in our elasticated waistbands, I have an admission.

Dinosaurs still roam car showrooms Secret senior tricks as false as their teeth Stacks on over dishwashers and blokes Domestic goddess? I'm a kitchen fool

Thanks to the combination of (a) gestational diabetes (and no, not because I was 400kg), (b) having to follow a strict diet and (c) a very hungry baby, I can report that a month later, I weigh less than before I was pregnant.

Astonishingly I got back in my normal clothes after just three weeks. I'm resisting taking a selfie in my undies and braying about my success on Instagram, but nevertheless, suck on that, Kate.

ROYAL VERDICT Victory for the colonies

What Kate did next

Luckily, this is as far as my quest goes, which is probably just as well.

After seven weeks, Kate returned to the red carpet in a floor-length Jenny Packham sequined gown and swiftly followed it up by playing volleyball in London showing off her perfectly flat tummy.

The following few months have seen her holidaying in Mustique and attending an official event last week in a red Alexander McQueen dress and gold earrings.

In fact, the only negative press she's had was that she looked a bit tired. I should bloomin' think so!

This is where we part company. I don't own any Jenny Packham gowns - or any gowns for that matter - and my red-carpet invites keep getting mysteriously stolen out of my mailbox.

But no matter, I'll happily stick with my uniform of shorts, sick-splattered T-shirt and Havaianas for as long as I possibly can. By Royal Appointment.