Pity Party

Last night I had my first pregnancy-induced pity party. I thought the fact that I've made it to 34 weeks without such an occurrence was pretty good - but this one was a doozy.

It all started because I need new shoes. My feet are really not that swollen - just the tops are a little puffy. However, they are puffy enough to make my work shoes uncomfortable. So, I was a little surprised to discover that my feet are now 1/2 size larger than they were pre-pregnancy.

And here's where I reveal that I now wear a clownish size 11 shoe.

And NO ONE carries size 11 shoes. Except for Payless and Target and all of these seem to be of the ballet flat variety which offer no support for my fairly high arches (thanks a lot, ballet classes).

It all came to a head when I entered one final store on the Grand Shoe Store Tour of Little Rock 2009 and I found the perfect shoe. I asked the guy if they had a size 11 and he said, "Sure! Let me go check" with such confidence that I just knew they'd have it.

So when he came out moments later with an apologetic look on his face, yet a shoe box in his hand, I was a bit confused. Until he said this:

I'm sorry, ma'am, we don't have a size 11. But we have a size 8.5

while holding the box of the size 8.5 shoes to me.

I didn't know whether to cry or scream at him. Instead, I acerbically informed him that I last wore a size 8.5 when I was in 7th grade and walked out.

Ordinarily, I think I'd laugh at this. But all of this came on top of the fact that I can't find a bra that fits either. Visions of a future filled with ordering everything from specialty sized shops that cater to ginormous ladies with ginormous feet swirled through my head.

I just felt like nothing on my entire body fit. My pants are falling down, my bra is too tight, my pathetic excuse for a winter coat (it is really a glorified windbreaker) doesn't fit over my sweater, my shoes are too small and my socks are falling down. (Insert 2-year old whine here.)

So I unloaded all of this on poor Adam during dinner and had my little pity party of one (because he certainly wasn't joining in). In fact, I think he made fun of me for it so I'll take back the "poor" in front of his name and insert "totally unsympathetic and snarky" instead.

And I of course felt silly for it later because it really isn't such a big deal. I only have two more weeks of work and I'm pretty sure I can get by with my slightly uncomfortable shoes during that period.

As far as as my unmentionables are concerned, I may make a trip to Expressly for You (feel free to laugh because I do) and get sized for a decent bra. I realize I'll probably have to go larger once the baby is born but at least I'll have something comfortable until then.

So the world is once again back to its rose-tinted self. And I should be happy because I'm still sleeping like a log at night, I'm not swollen all over, my baby is healthy, I am healthy, school is almost out and Christmas is almost here.

The pity party is officially over.

P.S. - Should I explain the picture? That is a picture of Dawson Leery crying on the show Dawson's Creek. It makes me giggle. It reminds me of college when the girls and I would watch Dawson's Creek while eating entire boxes of macaroni and cheese. I think this is from the episode when Dawson's dad dies in a car accident because he was trying to retrieve an ice-cream cone he dropped on the floor of his car. Tee hee.