I was feeling fanstatic.
Honestly, I still feel okay, but not as great.
It's as though Wednesday hit and my body was like..."Hey girl, you're 8 months pregnant, now it's time to feel uncomfortable."
Yesterday was okay, though my allergies are driving me batty. I had plans to walk around the lake with a friend at night. I was driving home from work to change, pick up my dogs, and meet her at the lake when it started to drizzle. Now, I am not one to find an excuse out of a workout, so I typically would have been quite annoyed, and then forced her to come to the gym to me.
She called me, and, knowing me as well as she does, and being the amazing friend that she is, she said the following:
Debra: Uh, Kara, it's raining out. But I mean, I know you're still going to want to walk, we could go to your gym, I could go with you there, if you want.
Kara: Nope, let's go eat instead. I want kid food. I'm tired. I want grilled cheese and tomato soup.
Debra: silence....Uh, okay, yea, let's just do dinner. (this was the voice of a very perplexed friend as that was not the typical response that would have come from me in this situation. Nor would I normally insist on grilled cheese and tomato soup)
And so we met for a lovely dinner. I got my kid food. I drove home. I took off my shoes, and noticed the my ankle and foot had grown to about twice its normal size...
|Fat Ankle...sorry for the gross picture of my foot...I hate feet...but I thought you needed a visual of how crazy it looked.|
So I guess I have a few complaints now.
Today my ankle is much better. It does not look nearly as crazy as it does in that photo. I still cannot breathe, but that's cool. Who needs to breathe.
And also, I'm ready to hold my little girl.
Okay, done complaining. It could be a LOT worse.
For now, I'll just continue to make jokes about my obese looking ankle.