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Ankles. Oh sweet ankles… that wonderful place where the legs and feet meet!

For 32 years I took my ankles for granted. To me they were just a joint: functional, purposeful, necessary. Yes, they were just another joint… until I got pregnant.

It was not that long ago that the climbing temperatures of summer and D-day simultaneously approached. As the temps spiked sharply and my little baby grew, so the presence of my ankles rapidly diminished.

I have to acknowledge that I was actually a very lucky pregnant woman: I never got morning sickness and I only had fairly normal pregnancy symptoms (a week of constant burping was one of the more notable/unusual ones). And to my pleasure, I was fortunate enough to not gain much extra weight. (I thank my mother for that.)

But then there were my ankles and feet.

By seven months pregnant my feet were twice their normal size and my ankles were on their way out. By eight months pregnant my feet had tripled in girth and my ankles ceased to exist altogether. They basically folded up shop and ditched town.

As huge as my belly was, I never had to fear falling over for lack of balance… Because no matter how belly-heavy I felt, I was completely anchored down with feet and ankles the size of a small elephant’s. And I’m not making this up or exaggerating! They were so big that...

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