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.