Gimme some red high heels

{post-pregnancy ankles have never looked so good}

For 32 years I took my ankles for granted. To me they were just a joint: functional, purposeful, necessary. Yes, they were just another joint…

Until I got pregnant.

It was not that long ago that the climbing temperatures of summer and D-day simultaneously approached. As the thermometer spiked sharply and my little baby grew, so the presence of my ankles rapidly diminished.

I have to acknowledge that I was actually a very lucky pregnant woman: I never got morning sickness and I only had fairly normal pregnancy symptoms (a week of constant burping was perhaps one of the more notable ones).

And to my pleasure, I was fortunate enough to not gain much extra weight. (I thank my mother for that.)

Unless of course you consider my feet and ankles.

By seven months pregnant my feet were twice their normal size and my ankles were on their way out. By eight months pregnant my feet had tripled in girth and my ankles ceased to exist altogether.

They basically folded up shop and ditched town.

As huge as my belly was, I never had to fear falling over for lack of balance… Because no matter how belly-heavy I felt, I was completely anchored down with feet and ankles the size of a small elephant’s. And I’m not making this up or exaggerating. They were so big that my thongs (flip-flops) wouldn’t even fit… until I got a larger size.

{Oh man-sized flip-flops, you are so unattractive.}

When people saw me they would stare at my belly and say, “Oh, you’re huge – how cute!” which I took as a compliment. And then their gaze would shift to my feet and ankles…

{i can almost hear you gasping out loud now}

As they stood with mouths open and jaws dropped, their faces would quickly turn from enchantment and admiration of my belly to fright and shock over my feet and ankles. I’ve never had so many sympathetic remarks in my life, and let’s be honest, I did feel sorry for myself….. so I lapped up the sympathy. {Give a girl a foot pampering anyone? Ryan? Aw, sweet, sweet husband.}

Yes, my feet and ankles were a show-stopper—a spectacle indeed—and a topic of conversation among friends and family! When I would talk to my in-laws on the phone, the first thing they would enquire about was the state of my poor feet and ankles. I even had one friend feel so sorry for me that she brought me a foot-soaking tub as a house-warming gift when we moved house at eight months pregnant. {Um, about that last part… remind me to never do that again, ok?}

And then it happened: the birth of my son. And much to my delight the bones in my feet and ankles miraculously reappeared soon after!

One word for that: AMAZING.

I can remember being at home a few days after giving birth, shutting the door to my bedroom, and slipping on a pair of red high heels. “If only I had somewhere to wear these,” I thought to myself. “Who cares about my flabby tummy… I. Have. Ankles.”

My new-found ankles made me feel so pretty… and, dare I say, a little bit sexy. (Had I not been still recovering from a c-section and unable to walk properly I’m positive that I would’ve found somewhere to wear those things!)

I vowed on that day to never be unappreciative of my ankles again.

But in the midst of laundry and nursing, chores and nursery rhymes, changing diapers and grocery shopping… I tend to forget about such things as my ankles. I regret to say that they inevitably became functional again, no longer a symbol of my beauty and femininity.

Until today.

You see, this morning I was at my mum’s group sitting next a woman that is 38 weeks pregnant. Sure enough, her ankles were in hibernation and nowhere to be seen. She lamented about her “cankles” and spoke of her dreams to one day have her ankles back.

As she did so, terrible memories came flooding back of my own so-swollen-they-might-burst feet and ankles.

In that moment (as I began to break out in a cold sweat) I, too, gave her one of those sympathetic smiles and—as kindly as possible—mumbled something about it being over soon. And then I looked down at my own ankles and gave thanks that they were back in my life. I renewed my vow to not take those wondrous body parts for granted ever again.

Oh how glad I am to be postpartum and have slim, feminine ankles once more!

Long live that beautiful space which will forever connect my legs and my feet – ankles, dear sweet ankles. May they be fluid-free for many, many years to come!

Indeed, I love my ankles.

Dear friends, have you taken your ankles or some other “functional” body part for granted lately? Why don’t you go ahead and take a moment to admire yourself. {wink}