Dear Feet,I woke up a little mad at you today: you've really let yourselves go. A few extra millimeters is one thing, but you've both become distressingly fat. I couldn't even put you in a comfy pair of slip-ons because you're so big around the middle, which totally threw a wrench in my outfit plans. (And when you have exactly 3.5 shirts that still fit you, it's a big deal to have one whole outfit disqualified.) And that, Feet, is why I started the day hating on you both.
So I did what any responsible mother-to-be would do: punished you with a mall walk. For two hours. In thin soled flip-flops. Ha.
But as we walked around the mall together, my mood softened. I realized that you're really good feet and I shouldn't be so hard on you. In fact, you've gained relatively less weight than my thighs and my derriere and definitely my midsection, so really I shouldn't take out my frustrations on you. And besides, since you're now both invisible to me, I'm sure that you've been pining for some attention, which admittedly I haven't been too good about.
So we ended the day with a pedicure, the best kind of attention for neglected feet. I hope you will both accept that as my apology. (And please don't confuse the color as some sort of passive aggressive act of revenge -- it was a mistake.) Together, we'll battle your figure issues and (relative) normalcy will eventually be restored.
Love,
That Crazy Lady Upstairs
Kate, your musings are just really wonderful. I'm excited to read the blog once the nephew is here, but your writings now make me think that perhaps you should have had one all along. I would certainly have been an avid reader. Much love!
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