Fred Flinstone is my friend

I noticed it a few weeks ago - my ankles turning into cankles. Not that they were ever a fabulous skinny pair of ankles, but at least they had form.

When my husband saw them he laughed, my mom freaked out and told me to put my feet up, my coworker convinced me I had diabetes, another coworker swore I had a heart condition. When I asked the doctor she said the only condition I had was being pregnant.

A few weeks later and now at 28 weeks - it is ridiculous. It was so bad yesterday that while I was out running around my coworker looked at my feet and gasped. There they were - full blown white skin encased sausages, stuck into a pair of Born Mary Jane shoes. The shoes were no longer comfortable and I was contemplating if my feet were going to stay in that shape when I took my shoes off - better yet how was I going to get them back in. I was fresh out of shoe horns.

We had to make en emergency stop at TJ Maxx for anything that my foot would fit into - in a half size bigger. I walked out with some seriously comfortable yet highly unattractive loafer type of shoes. Something someone walking out of Brooks Brothers would be seen in. But I care none - I'm at the point of no return when it comes to my snausage feet.

Seriously, I think my dogs are going to start nibbling at my feet thinking they are some sort of big fat chew toy.....that would so be my luck.