They say pregnancy is transformative.  I wish I was talking about some sort of magical emotional transformation, but really I’m telling you I look like the marshmallow man from Ghost Busters.  I’m sure you’re tired of hearing of my tortured cankles, but this is my platform, and if I want to use it to preach about my cankles, I will.  When I”m with other people, sometimes they try to speak of interesting cultural things, and I often feel the need to interrupt them.

“Did you hear about this interesting phenomenon…”

“I’m sorry, I just need to interrupt you to tell you this important fact.  I am extremely uncomfortable right now, and I’m actually not listening to you at all.”

You’ve all seen Kimmy K’s cankles by now.  If you haven’t, here they are.  I don’t know why my home girl is still insisting on wearing anything other than flats, but to each their own.  I happen to live in Mississippi, so every time I step outside my water retention also steps it up a notch.  In a show of solidarity- here are my cankles Kim.  Or more accurately, my cankle.


Oh, and I need a pedicure.  I can’t reach those things anymore.  But it feels mean to make a poor asian woman touch my swollen puppies.  So, I’ll just wait.

It’s at a point where I get stared at.  I know, I’m a shocking sight to see.  People can’t help but stare.  Some of them feel compelled to say “Did you swallow a watermelon seed?”  or my favorite “It’s twins right?”  She meant well.  She did, but no it’s not twins.  Here I am y’all.  37 weeks and counting.

hair do courtesy of “I’m tired and I have a toddler”
It came. The pregnancy nose. I thought it might not, but it reared it’s ugly face with three weeks to go.


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