Unhappy Feet

April 15, 2010

I’ve been very lucky so far to have had a blissfully uneventful pregnancy. No morning sickness. No wild food cravings. No edema that leaves me puffed up like Vicki Lawrence on Mama’s Family.

But two days ago I woke up to discover that my feet were in full pregnancy revolt. It felt like someone had stuck hot pokers in both of my heels. It’s a little better now.

I’ve experienced something like this before, back when I was running – the culprit then was plantar fasciitis, an inflammation of the tissue along the bottom of the foot. The obvious solution was to stop running, which I did (without much regret – I was never much more than a plodder at best).

But I’m not quite sure what to do about it this time around. I think my feet just finally decided that they were fed up with my ever-increasing weight. And you can’t reason with feet – I know the pregnancy is to blame, but for all they know I’ve just been packing in the Quarter Pounders with unusual abandon. Though I guess it’s good that they don’t understand that they’re in for two more months of this. I might wake up some morning to discover them gone altogether.


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