Pregnancy Dismorphic Disorder

Like many people, I was delayed at the airport last week. I spent 5 hours at LGA, more time than I ever want to spend there in my life. Especially in the summer. Gross.

It could have been worse, of course. I splurged for the internet and I had a seat. I also, for a good chunk of the time, had a seat across from me where I could put my feet up. This is something I did not know I needed until I took advantage of the situation. This is what my feet looked like:

2861869-monty_foot

Now, my ankles aren’t what you would call pretty in an everyday normal situation. I realized this when I was in middle school and couldn’t find an anklet that would fit. That’s when I learned what cankles were. And that I had them. And that they were bad. I also have very large feet (I suppose that’s good – they keep the cankles up).

I have never felt so good about my regular ankles and feet. In comparison to the dogs I was sporting that day, mine are prettier than a Disney Princess’. Take that, anklet-makers, my cankles are AWESOME. Or at least they fall into the ‘pretty normal’ category. Of course, now I’m terrified that I’ll look down thinking I have swollen ankles and realize, no, that’s just how they are.

I think we all have trouble gauging weight and image during pregnancy. A cruel joke, since most women have trouble with this for a large portion of their lives. But it’s all magnified during pregnancy, engorged, if you will. Things you were used to compensating for or accentuating are no longer those things.

Out-and-about recently, I’ve noticed a weird trend. Women who have kids constantly tell me how much smaller I am than they were at seven months. I do NOT feel small. I feel very, very large, especially when I try to fit into pants that are not leggings or non-maternity shirts.

I think these women are remembering how it FELT to be in their third trimester rather than how they actually looked. Either that, or they’re remembering how they looked at the very end of their pregnancy. This puppy is getting larger by the minute, and soon, those “you’re so small” comments will be an endangered species. I’m pretty sure the end literally and figuratively eclipses any positive body feelings women may have had during their pregnancy.

So, that’s my theory. I’m not small, I just haven’t finished popping yet. Stay tuned for month 8, when I will no longer be able to see my very swollen cankles.

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